


A Bleeding Heart

by VanillaCottonCandy1216



Category: PLL - Fandom, Pretty Little Liars
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 21:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 109,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12897300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaCottonCandy1216/pseuds/VanillaCottonCandy1216
Summary: "They came into the barn and they kidnapped you in the middle of the night. Right out of your bed." When Spencer wakes up in the hospital, with Toby by her side and no memory of the heartbreaking events that occurred in the last forty eight hours, she must fight to figure out what happened that night as the cop's suspicion turns to her. (Post 6x20)





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so, I'm new here and I've never posted here before today, but I felt like uploading some of my recent fics to this site. This fic is sort of. . .violent. And for the first few chapters, you may be massively confused. That's on purpose. After that, slowly, as Spencer starts to figure things out, hopefully things will become more clear--though not everything, haha. But I swear, I won't pull a Marlene and not answer everything by the end.   
> Hopefully you'll read and enjoy :)

The pain in her head that left her with a feeling akin to what it must be like to be run over with a truck is what woke her up. That and the hand running through her hair. It was a nice soothing gesture, it made her scalp sing, it contrasted with the buzzing anxiety bubbling inside her, even while unconscious.

Or sedated, Spencer realized as she came to. Her eyelids felt heavy, like the muscles in them had weakened since she went to sleep the night before.

She wondered, absentmindedly, as she forced her indolent eyes open, who was stroking her hair and why. Was she sick? She couldn't imagine her mom though, nursing her back to health. It clearly wasn't Caleb as he had left the barn a week and a half ago, in light of his treacherous kiss and subsequent reconciliation with Hanna. She hadn't spoken to him since the night they found Hanna. She hadn't spoken to Hanna since her halfheartedly guilty confession. A lot had been broken in the last few weeks, in some ways seemingly irreparable.

She had been told about the confession of love and the kiss that followed, while visiting Hanna in the hospital, thirteen hours after her rescue from -A. Spencer had left almost immediately after, texted Caleb to get his stuff before nightfall and she'd fallen asleep that night in tears. Every morning from then on she woke up, contemplating where she went wrong. Going over and over her part in this gigantic mess, like rereading a bad critique until her brain bled. She analyzed where she should have paid more attention to Hanna's lingering feelings or looked closer at her boyfriend for obvious signs he wasn't over her best friend. Where she trusted too fully or brushed off something too easily. She looked for her faults in the situation obsessively. It became her routine for waking up and falling asleep each night.

But something felt different now. As she attempted to pry her eyes open she felt her senses coming back to her slowly. She felt the papery hospital gown covering her body, the itchy sheets keeping her warm, the cardboard pillow behind her head. She felt wires on her and needles in her.

She realized with sudden clarity as the fog cleared her brain, she was in the hospital. She felt the hand move from her hair to slowly grasping her palm. She knew then all along what her brain had been too stubborn to accept. Toby's hand was unmistakable in hers. She'd placed her hand inside his for comfort too many times to not recognize the feeling. It was distinctly different than holding Caleb's hand. Toby's were rougher in texture and yet softer in touch. They were quite a bit larger and they were constantly warm. They felt like a comforting blanket, covering her when she shivered.

"Toby," she whispered, her voice sandpaper rubbing against satin.

He squeezed her hand tightly before placing a kiss on the back of it.

"I'm here, baby."

His voice alone made her forget she was in a hospital for currently unknown reasons, feeling like she was ten feet under water. "Toby," she whispered again.

"Shhh," but the voice wasn't Toby's hushing her. It was her mother's. "Spencer, honey, relax."

She couldn't tell them that she was relaxed. She was too relaxed. Her entire body felt like it was floating in space. Her brain was screaming and sleeping all at once, leaving her with no way to communicate with anyone. She took a yoga fire breath, the only thing it seemed she still could control.

"Good girl," Veronica encouraged next to her. "Take another deep breath, sweetie."

Had she been coherent, Spencer would have been looking at the woman like she had grown three heads. Never in as far as she could remember back had either of her parents ever coddled her. They treated her sister like she was made of glass at times but never had they given Spencer the same treatment. Spencer convinced herself long ago she'd never wanted it anyway.

Veronica was speaking again but it was distant, hushed and somewhere in her brain Spencer concluded someone else was in the room. Toby's hand stroked her hair again, silently. She wanted to ask why he was here, why she was here but the fog in her brain was still too heavy for her to speak. She wondered languidly if this is how Emily used to feel when she was underwater during a swim meet.

She felt pressure in her arm then and Toby's hand moving to her face, stroking it with the tenderness of an angel. Another pinch and the haze in her brain grew stronger instead of weaker and she felt herself slipping into blackness.

* * *

 

The next time she tried to open her eyes, it was much easier. They opened right away without the fight and her limbs moved at her demand, albeit weakly. The fog felt all but gone from her brain and she could finally see her surroundings. She was in a hospital bed, by a giant window that gave a view that to anyone else would be beautiful.

To her, it was the desolate town where she grew up and was the source of every nightmare she'd ever had. On one side of her bed was her mother, her head lolled back in the chair, sound asleep, her makeup days old and smeared messily across her face. Spencer spotted the senator's heels kicked neatly into the corner of the room, with her purse standing perfectly still next to them, almost like a portrait taken out of Forbes Women.

On the other side laid her ex-boyfriend, his head face down into the side of her hospital bed, his hands both laid sleepily across her thighs. She could feel him snoring softly, a small detail about him that over time she'd completely forgotten.

The sight gave her a warm, honey sweet feeling in her stomach and made her tragically nostalgic for times long past. A time when everything in her life was complete chaos, much like now, and yet, when she looked into blue eyes the color of the ocean, everything felt okay. She couldn't help herself, in her still slightly drug induced state, from reaching over and gently petting the back of Toby's head, feeling his sandy brown locks between her fingers again. They were messier than usual as he clearly hadn't trimmed or gelled his hair lately. She ran her fingers through it hungrily, like an alcoholic tasting vodka for the first time in years.

"Spence," Toby murmured groggily as he awoke from her ministrations.

"Sorry," she rasped, shocked by how awful her voice sounded. "I didn't mean to wake-"

Before she could choke out her sentence, Toby was sitting up straighter, his eyes brightening by the second and his hand touched her face greedily. "You're awake!" He exclaimed, a smile breaking out across his face, one that melted her whole heart into a puddle.

"Yeah," she smiled back, getting lost in his presence. His words took a minute to register but when they did, she remembered her earlier confusion. "Toby?" She started, the hoarse quality to her voice growing thicker the more she spoke. "Toby," she tried again.

He didn't wait for her to finish her sentence, standing up and reaching over her body to the hospital water bottle sitting by Veronica's sleeping form. "This should help," he said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed and bringing the plastic straw to her lips. She sucked hungrily and was amazed at how quickly the water soothed her parched throat.

"Toby, why am I here?" She blurted out the second she was done drinking.

His eyes dimmed and she knew at once this was going to be bad. She braced herself for a new tragedy, grasping the hospital covers with her weak hands.

But he shook his head and forced a smile. "All that matters is you're alright," He said, brushing her bangs back soothingly. "Don't stress out about it, everything's okay."

"Why are you placating me?" She snapped. "I'm not an invalid, Toby."

His expression fell, this time harder, like a kicked puppy and instantly Spencer felt awful. "I'm sorry," She apologized quickly, grabbing his hand in both of her's. "I'm just-"

"I'm know," He assured, smoothing out his expression. "It's disorientating."

He used his free hand to cup her cheek and she leaned into it, thirsty for more. She wanted to bask in his presence, that whatever had led to him being there, with her, touching her in ways he'd hadn't touched her in three years. She wanted to kiss him, and feel his 5 o' clock shadow on her lips. She wanted to bite his neck and wrap her legs around his waist and curl up like a ribbon in his arms.

But that wasn't Spencer Hastings and that would never be Spencer Hastings. She asked the questions no one wanted the answers to, not even her. "Why are you here?"

She couldn't think of a better way to phrase her inquiry, in her current state and she half expected to have hurt his feelings. But he didn't even blink at her words. "Because you're here," He said simply, the truth in his words undeniable in his eyes. She idly wondered what changed, what took them from being just friends to something more? Had whatever happened to her drastically changed his perspective on them?

Whatever the reason, his words made her heart ache in the best way possible and she reached for him like not a day had passed since they'd broken up inside her dorm room. He went without a second of hesitation and she felt herself let out a breath she had no recollection of holding as her head found its way to the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around her, like a warm, familiar blanket you hadn't slept with in years and the word home came to the forefront of her mind.

He brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck so gently she teared up. She pulled herself tighter to him, molding their bodies together like she thought she could make them one.

"Please, don't let me go," She whispered into his sweatshirt and his hand rubbed her back from her shoulder blades to her ass.

His lips pressed against her shoulder where his face was buried, inhaling her.

In her still slightly drug induced brain, a name suddenly came to mind.

 _Yvonne_.


	2. Chapter Two

_Yvonne_.

The name struck her mind like a bullet. It rang like a deafening bell. It made it hard for her to swallow.

Spencer wondered, with sudden shock, why the name made her feel like she was being punched in the gut? Why did it make her shake? What was happening to her, she didn't understand.

Toby instantly noticed the change in her. "Spence," He whispered, loosening his hold around her slightly so he could meet her eyes. "What is it?"

Spencer shook her head defiantly, her lip quivering out of her control. She realized, much to her own dismay, that she was crying. Not just crying, she was harsh sobbing. Loud, thick wails filled the room and within seconds, her mother was awake and leaning over her, her father was running into the room and men and women in scrubs and white coats were all surrounding her bed.

"Spencer, it's okay," Toby brushed her hair back, his arms still loosely wrapped around her. "Whatever it is, it's okay," He promised but the look in his eyes was fearful, not comforting, though he was desperately trying not to show it.

She felt new, foreign hands on her skin and she jerked her body away, trying to contain herself to no avail. "Don't fucking touch me," She spat, pushing closer to Toby.

The doctor didn't register her words. His hands reached for her again, ready to restrain her, pulling a syringe out of his pocket. "Spencer," Her mother said, half a plead, half a warning.

She wanted to apologize for causing such a scene but she wanted more to claw apart the doctor that was trying to take her away from the one person who made her feel safe.

"Please," Spencer begged, looking at Toby to stop them from sedating her.

He was torn, knowing that listening to the doctors was in her best interest but he couldn't help the way his heart shattered apart, looking at her terrified eyes.

He gathered her in his arms, burying his face in her neck, rocking her back and forth as the doctor and nurses restrained her left arm and gave her a sedation.

"No," She cried out and Toby couldn't help the sob that fell out of his mouth. He had to fight the feeling that he'd betrayed her in some big way.

"I promise, Spencer, I will be right here when you wake up," He pledged desperately.

Spencer's eyes fell shut not four seconds later and it took everything he had not to break down in front of her parents.

He began to wipe the tears off her cheeks, ignoring the salt water running down his own.

"Toby," Veronica whispered, placing a hand on his back. It was probably the most comforting she knew how to be and he appreciated her for trying.

But instead of responding to the senator, Toby ran his hand down the length of Spencer's arm, where they'd inserted the needle. He was tempted to kiss it but thought better of it with a room full of people.

The doctor asked if he could see all three of them out in the hall. Peter and Veronica both began to follow him but Toby didn't move from his place on the edge of Spencer's bed.

"I'm sorry," He whispered once everyone had cleared out. His lips brushed her cheek, clearing away the tear tracts. "I promise, I won't move until you wake up. I'll be right here, okay?"

He was starting to think he needed to be the one in the hospital, maybe in the psychiatric unit. He felt just as hysterical inside as her. The only thing that was keeping him grounded was the girl in the hospital bed that he loved desperately, in spite of everything that'd gone wrong between them.

"I'm so proud of you," He whispered again, kissing the inside of her wrist where the IV was inserted. "I don't know what you went through in there but I am so proud of you. You survived. You always survive and I don't know how you do it. But I want you to know that I think you're the strongest person I know. I wish had half of your strength."

He was fully aware he was babbling like a lunatic but, and maybe it was being cooped up inside this sterile, white room for days, but he just didn't care.

The only thing he cared about was sedated in front of him.

No more than five minutes after the doctor took the Hastings into the hall, did Toby hear Spencer's parents beginning to unravel.

"What's wrong with her?" Veronica asked the doctor, her voice edging on terror. "Why is she acting like this?"

"Your daughter has been through quite an ordeal," the doctor pacified. "It makes sense the littlest things would trigger her. They will more than likely trigger her again. We just need to be patient."

"Patient?" Peter bellowed, loud and almost angry. "I want to know what the hell you're going to do to fix this."

"Sir, all we can do is keep her comfortable and adjust her medication until she decides to let us know what happened and what kind of care she needs."

"'What she needs'?" The elder man repeated. "You mean… psychiatric care?"

Toby heard the doctor's nails tap on his clipboard a few times before answering. "I'm not going to rule anything out," he finally stated.

"The psychiatric ward?" Veronica exclaimed, losing her cool once again.

Toby turned his head away from the noise, instead facing Spencer's unconscious body. He was done listening to her parents. They'd been having similar conversations with multiple doctors since the night Spencer was brought in. Listening to their anxiety did nothing to help him with his own and he knew if he let the what ifs overwhelm his mind, he'd be in the ward right there with her.

He squeezed Spencer's hand as Peter's voice grew even louder. He hoped against hope that she was too deep in sedation to know what her parents were saying. Her plate was full enough without her mom and dad making it any harder.

The longer Toby listened to the Hastings parents, the more irritated with them he became. Maybe it was his own edginess but something about the way they were lashing out was grinding on his nerves. This situation was hellish for all involved, Toby knew that, but the way the parents lacked the ability to put their own child's needs above their emotions pissed him off.

Eventually the voices quieted down and Toby was left alone with the sleeping girl. He slipped his hand underneath the stiff hospital sheets and began absentmindedly stroking the inside of her thigh, tracing patterns on her silky soft skin. She had always liked it when he did that. It used to calm her down when nothing else could reach her. He hoped, even in her current state, it had the same effect now.

"I'm sorry, Spence," He whispered when the silence became deafening, reaching up to cup her face. "I'm sorry this is happening to you."

"Toby," Veronica called, rejoining the room. He dropped his hand from her daughter's face just before she came into view. "The cafeteria had clam chowder or broccoli cheddar today. I thought you'd prefer the latter."

This had been their routine ever since the dire night that brought them all to this hospital room. Veronica brought him food three times a day from the hospital cafeteria. He never left Spencer's bedside unless it was to shower or use the bathroom. Veronica was there, perched in an uncomfortable hospital chair almost as much. Melissa brought them both coffee every once in a while, when she made her appearance every few days. Peter rarely made an appearance inside the hospital room but was always nearby. Toby never bothered asking what exactly he did to keep himself busy. The truth is, he really didn't care about many trivial things anymore.

"Thanks," He said, trying to smile, sweet and thankful, but instead it came out like a grimace.

She seemed to understand. "I know it's hard," Her eyes fell on Spencer, moving a stray hair out of her face. The older woman swallowed noticeably before looking down, an obvious sign, Spencer had once told him, she was about to say something emotional. Verbal sentiments weren't the Hastings strong suits. "Toby, I cannot tell you how thankful I am that you…" She bit her lip, evidently losing her words. Toby realized she was too worked up to finish her sentence. "Thank you," She whispered, reaching out and taking his hand, across the bed that held the person who tied them together.

He smiled, somewhat abash this time, but it was a real, genuine smile. Those had been few and far between in the last few days. He squeezed her hand before dropping it maybe a second too late.

The twenty four year old didn't know what else to say. She was thanking him like what he did was an act of good charity, not something he had to do for his own survival.

He slipped his hand beneath the sheets once again and continued to trace patterns on Spencer's leg, counting down the seconds until she awoke.

* * *

 

"Toby," She whispered, before she was even conscious.

"I'm here," He whispered, squeezing her hand.

She groggily opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings. It was the same room as before, the window still giving a picture perfect view of Rosewood. It was dark outside, the time between evening and nightfall.

Her room had no artificial light and Spencer wondered idly if this was intentional. If the doctors or her mother thought she'd remain calmer if it remained dim.

Just as she thought of her mom, the woman's arms were around her. "I'm so glad you're awake, honey," She murmured, rocking her in a way Spencer scarcely remembered ever being held.

"Mom?" She whispered, disoriented, her hands mechanically reaching up to touch the woman's back. She'd woken up three times now and still had no idea what led to her lying in this bed.

"How do you feel?" Veronica asked, moving back and fixing Spencer's disarrayed hair.

"Confused." She answered shortly, searching around her. She spotted flowers now, in the corner of the room. Rows and rows of bright arrangements of flowers, all sitting on top of an empty counter. They were color coordinated and perfectly aligned and Spencer knew now how her mother stayed busy. "Why am I here?"

"That's okay," The senator reassured her mystification, ignoring the question altogether. The soft, placating edge to her voice made Spencer scream inside.

A long time ago, she was desperate to be treated with the same affection and reverence Melissa was regarded with by their parents. Now, sitting in a hospital bed, all she wanted was a straight forward answer. Not to be treated like a porcelain doll or a delicate flower.

She turned her neck the other direction and was met with eyes blue as the ocean. "Toby," She whispered. He smiled a soft grin that made her heart ache. She reached her hand for his. "You kept your promise. You didn't move."

He kissed the palm of her hand gently. "I told you I wouldn't."

"I know," She smiled lazily now. "You always keep your promises."

Her words made his face radiate with a glow only she was familiar with and she wished she could go back in time and change all their mistakes. Never break up, never let inconsequential issues come between them, never let the cord between them stretch so far and so thin that by the time it was severed, neither of them even felt it.

"Tobes?" She whispered again and her expression morphed into a serious one. She was changing the subject and she knew, as someone who'd spent the better part of four years with her, that he could see where this was headed.

"Yes?"

"What happened to me?" Her voice was quiet and solemn and straight to the point.

"You were sedated," He replied carefully. He was always cautious with his answers. He seamlessly walked the line between telling her too much and outright lying to her.

"Why was I sedated?" She probed, her voice growing stronger.

He hesitated with his answer before deciding to be truthful. She deserved that and they both knew it. "You got upset. Really upset. And the doctors didn't want that so soon after you woke up. They thought it may be too traumatic and stressful to your brain. So they sedated you."

Unlike him, she didn't miss a beat. "Why did I get so upset?" He shut his eyes and when he reopened them, Spencer noticed the look exchanged between him and her mother. "Don't look at her," Spencer demanded, a fierceness coming into her voice and instead of intimidating him, it warmed him to the core.

He hesitated again before speaking, choosing his words carefully. "You've just been through a lot and it may be better for you to just relax for now," Toby finally answered, his eyes full of agony and Spencer knew he hated that he was conciliating her.

His pain, just like it always did, softened her. "Toby," She asked gently, looking only at him and not her mom. "What have I been through?"

Despite the obvious fact that she was being ignored, Veronica answered for him. "Don't worry about that right now," She pushed Spencer's hair behind her ear. Kissing her daughter's forehead, the older woman hushed, "Just go back to sleep."

Spencer fidgeted, only slightly but enough to get her mother to back off. "Toby," She addressed directly through clenched teeth, her voice sturdy and guttural. She fought hard to break any weakness welled up inside her. It was fruitless. He always saw the vulnerability in her strength. "What happened to me?" She demanded again.

"I don't know," He swore, being completely truthful. "Only you know, Spence."

"Why the hell are you talking in riddles?" She snapped irately.

Just like before, her anger didn't scare him. It almost delighted him. In the back of her mind, she knew that he was happy that in spite of everything else, she was still the strong-willed, foul mouth girl he always knew.

A small smirk fought its way onto his mouth. She wanted to kiss it more than she craved water.

"You are literally the most inquisitive person I know," He stated, his tone the complete polar opposite of her's. "Even in a hospital bed, on drugs."

His demeanor calmed her, if only slightly. "I'm just sick of everyone lying to me," She declared thickly, resenting the fact that her eyes were filling up with frustrated tears.

"Sweetie, you need to stop worrying so much," Veronica said, softly but firm now. The type of tone that worked when Spencer was eleven. "Please, get some rest."

"I don't want rest, mom," The twenty three year old bellowed gravely. She spoke slowly and emphasized every word now, feeling the anger that moments ago had her fired up, now draining her. "I want to know why everyone is handling me with child gloves. I want to know why I can't get a straight answer out of anyone and you guys are sharing secret looks and I'm lost or being drugged or sedated continuously. I want to know what the fuck is going on."

The senator looked like her daughter had smacked her but there was remorse in her eyes too and Spencer knew she was right.

"You were kidnapped by -A," Toby stated from the other side of the bed. Both Hastings women's eyes snapped to the muscular police officer. "They came into the barn and they kidnapped you in the middle of the night. Right out of your bed."

"Toby," Veronica warned, through clenched teeth but the senator that once instilled fear inside him, now couldn't scare him. He knew Spencer deserved answers. She was at the center of the mysterious tragedy. It wasn't fair that everyone expected her to walk through this completely in the dark.

He swallowed hard on his next words. "You were found inside a building on the outskirts of town, almost eighteen hours later. There was blood everywhere and…" He trailed off, gnawing on his bottom lip before adding, "Seventeen other people were kidnapped, besides you."

This shocked her. "Where are they?" She asked hungrily, eyeing the open door to the hall, like they'd just magically appear.

"No, Spence," Toby touched her arm tenderly. "No one was rescued but you."

She snapped her head back towards him, completely taken aback. "No one…" She choked out. "Everyone else is dead?"

Seventeen people besides her were kidnapped by the anonymous monster who stalked her and her friends. And she was the lone survivor. The revelation didn't make her feel lucky or happy or any positive emotion. It made her feel dirty, tainted, like she stole something from someone more deserving.

Or like she killed them herself.

Spencer gaped at him, her chest shaking. She, again, felt like she was being punched in the stomach, the air being knocked out of her chest, like she'd never catch her breath again.

But something deep inside her felt almost better. Like the weight of not knowing, the idea that anything could have happened and she'd be clueless, was causing her such tremendous anxiety that even the most painful truths took it away. It filled the areas inside her that once contained gut wrenching fear with gagging horror.

"Eight bodies were found," Toby added quietly. "The other nine are still missing. But, it's assumed…" He swallowed hard again and she realized he was staring at the tears running down her face, hard and fast, like blood squirting out an open wound. "I'm sorry, Spence," He whispered agonizingly. There were tears brimming in his own eyes. "I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want you to ever have to find out but," He paused to push back his emotions before continuing. "But you were right. You of all people have a right to know what happened."

With the screech of the hospital chair against the cold tile floor, Spencer realized her mom had still been present until now. Veronica grabbed her purse from the ground roughly as she stormed out of the room, bumping a pile of cards off the counter by the sink and onto the ground.

"She's mad at me, not you," Toby assured quietly, after a beat of silence. "She thought we shouldn't tell you any of this. At least, not yet."

"And what, keep me completely in the dark?" Spencer hissed through her tears, but the words were quiet.

"She's just trying to do what she thinks is best for you," Toby reasoned gently.

"I have a right to know to what happened to me," She whispered, repeating his words from just seconds before back to him.

"Yes," He agreed, with conviction and certainty. He knew, deep in his gut, he made the right decision to tell her. "You do."

She kept her eyes on her blanket covered lap for a long time. "Thank you," Spencer finally whispered. "For trusting me enough to handle the truth."

He gave her a forlorn smile but she didn't look up to see it. "Spence," He sighed after a minute, grasping her much smaller hand once again. "Look me in the eye." She shook her head stubbornly. "Please," He begged.

She slowly moved her mocha brown orbs up to meet his. "What?"

"Don't be sorry," He ordered softly. "Don't be sorry that you're still here. Whatever happened in there, whatever this son of bitch did, don't feel guilty for still being alive. Be grateful," He smiled and she wondered how one smile could be so sad and so happy all at once. "Because I am. I am so grateful you're still here. I've never been so damn grateful in my entire life."

She tried to give him a small smile, his words touching her but the survivor's guilt too strong to overcome. She was cracking, she realized detachedly.

"I just don't know how to feel," She admitted but the words sounded like a strangled sob, caught in her throat.

"I know, baby," He whispered, and he couldn't sit by her bedside one second longer. He stood up and climbed onto the edge of her bed, gathering her into his arms like he alone could pull all her severed pieces back together. "It's not fair, I know."

She buried her face in his shoulder, her sobs building up louder and louder, her chest shaking violently. "I don't understand," She choked out. "I don't understand. Why am I still here?"

Toby shook his head against hers, squeezing her so tight to him, it was hard for both them to breathe. Her tears were running down her face now, like a dam had broken and snot was dripping down her nose only to get lost in the fabric of his shirt. "I don't understand this," She cried out again.

He ran his hand down the length of her back then up to her shoulders again, his fingertips tracing circles in the skin exposed through the back of her hospital gown in a soothing gesture. "Shhh," He whispered into her neck before pressing his lips there.

The kiss calmed her slightly and he pressed another to her cheek, then to her nose, then her forehead. "I'm here," He whispered again, pressing his lips to her hairline and then her crown before tucking her head under his chin, allowing her to burrow her tear stained face in his neck. "I'm here and you're here and we'll get through this. We'll get through this together. I promise."


	3. Chapter Three

They stayed there for hours, holding onto each other desperately, like starving savages hanging on to their last bit of food. His fingers stroked her hair, running from the crown to the ends, rhythmically. He placed kisses on the back of her neck every so often and rubbed any section of skin exposed, be it her arms, back or legs.

"I'm here, Spence," he promised again and again. "I'm here for you."

For someone who had drugs running through her veins and had been put to sleep by force multiple times in the last day, she had a surprisingly strong grip on him, roughly clutching his t-shirt in her hands.

She curled up in a ball, pressing herself as close to him as humanly possible. The words she'd once said to him played through his head once more.

_"I've never had a safe place to land but now I feel like I do."_

He'd do anything to be that for her again.

As she squeezed him until her knuckles turned white, he thought maybe he wasn't so far away.

Veronica returned twenty minutes later, doctor in tow, ready to contain the situation at hand. Her plans changed instantaneously when she saw the couple, still huddled in a ball on the hospital bed and she had to shut her eyes at the image of her daughter now openly sobbing in Toby's arms.

All her previous irritation melted away at the notion of Spencer in pain. "What happened?" She asked desperately.

Toby didn't say anything, just planted another kiss on Spencer's face, this time close to her mouth and he wondered if it was inappropriate for him to show so much affection in front of her mother.

He didn't care. If he'd learned anything in the past few days, it was that he wasn't going to waste another moment worrying what other people thought was right.

Veronica didn't seem to find it out of line, anyway. Through the entire nightmare, the one thing her and Peter _didn't_ seem to have a problem with was his constant presence at their daughter's bedside.

"Toby," She whispered again, and the twenty-four year old met her frantic eyes, his own tears falling down his face as he hugged her daughter closer.

The doctor, whose name Toby never managed to catch, touched Spencer's back, sensitively. "Sweetie, I know you don't want to, but if I could, I'd like to give you something that'll make you relax."

Unlike what everyone expected, Spencer swallowed back a large sob and simply nodded at the doctor before pulling slightly out of Toby's embrace.

He let her, submitting complete control to her, happily allowing her to take the reigns. This was a nightmare that only she could guide them through. He hated how all the weight rested on her shoulders, but it was just one more thing that he had no power to fix.

She wiped her face on her arm, the hospital drugs evidently still keeping her numb to her cuts and bruises. Neither Toby nor her mother mentioned the injuries to her. The last thing either of them wanted was to overwhelm her even further.

Spencer took a shaky breath, trying to stop her lip from quivering and Toby desperately wanted to hold her again. As if she read his mind, she tugged him closer to her place in the center of the bed and crawled onto his lap, completely this time. He went willingly, reveling in the feeling of her pushing her face into the crook of his neck. She then held out her IV'd arm, bravely, for a sedation shot.

The doctor smiled kindly at her. His eyes were full of sympathy, Toby noted. Spencer wasn't looking at him, thank God, because she would have loathed it.

Within a minute she was unconscious and as Toby brushed back her hair and wiped away her remaining tears, for the first time, he was glad to see her sedated.

* * *

She woke up to the smell of bacon and French toast. "Hey, champ," Her dad greeted, though his voice wavered somewhat. He was attempting to keep his tone light but she saw through it instantly.

"What's this?" She asked, noticing how achy her muscles felt now that they'd laid off the drugs.

It had been three days since her meltdown and since then, she had been improving. She still got shaky at points when certain words were mentioned or would get a feeling akin to being stabbed in the gut, but she hadn't needed sedation and her doctor considered that progress.

She still didn't know all the details of the accident-as they'd so carefully labeled it. There were still major gaps in the story, her memory of the night in question was a complete blank and she had no idea if she was in the hospital for purely mental reasons or if she had physical injuries too, but since her exhausting crying jag three nights back, she couldn't bring herself to ask for more information.

She'd cried until the sedation had pulled her under. When she awoke, her throat felt even more raucous, her eyes stung, her nose wouldn't stop running and the skin around her eyes were sore. The doctors ordered her to take it easy and she'd tried.

Instead she basked in Toby's never wavering presence by her bedside and tried to be content in that he was here and not think of every inquiry that threatened to consume her mind.

Since she'd gone three days without an issue, her doctor-who she now learned was named Dr. Barnes-had cut back on her medications and removed both her IV and catheter.

Spencer didn't fail to notice though, her dad hadn't made an appearance once since the second meltdown that landed her in sedation. She had asked Toby about it once, not bothering to keep the hurt out of her voice and he'd said nothing, instead choosing to comfort her physically. She took that to mean he didn't have the heart to tell her the truth.

She hadn't pushed it too much. She didn't have the room in her brain to mull over the reason behind her father's absence.

"What's this?" She asked again, her voice growing louder as she stretched awake.

"Breakfast," Her dad gestured to the food laid on a tray before her.

"Is this hospital food?" Spencer asked suspiciously.

Peter laughed once but it was tense. "Do you think I'd feed my kid hospital food? No, it's from the restaurant across the street."

But Spencer wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. "Where have you been?" She asked, gruffly. "I haven't seen you in days."

The lawyer looked extremely uncomfortable but still held up his business facade somewhat. "I thought I'd give you time with your mother and Toby. I didn't want to crowd you."

"Stop lying to me," She growled.

"I'm not lying, Spence," He tried to brush off her anger, as if she was an irrational client and not his daughter.

"Yes, you are-"

"Honey," He said the word like a warning, barely keeping his cool. "If you keep getting yourself worked up, they're going to sedate you again. And probably up your drug intake too." The worst part of his threat, meant to undermine her, was it was one hundred percent true. It didn't matter how valid she was in her accusations. She got worked up, she had to pay the price for it.

Spencer fell silent after that, taking a deep breath that did nothing to calm her. She noticed then that her mother wasn't present in the room, only for the third time in as many days. She appreciated the woman's concern for her, but she couldn't help feeling relieved to get a break from her.

She turned to her other side and reached for him before she even looked for him, her thin fingers hooking in the collar of Toby's loose t-shirt now. She was surprised to actually find him awake and staring at her, apparently having witnessed the entire exchange between her and her father. He didn't look too pleased but Toby was fairly well-versed in picking your battles with your parents. And he wasn't one to start something without decent provoking.

"Tobes," She murmured, tugging him closer to her and he leaned forward to kiss the corner of her mouth, careful to avoid bumping the tray of food in front of her.

"Good morning," He greeted softly and kissed her lips this time, just a peck, not nearly enough to satisfy her but more than they ever used to do in front of her parents. "How're you feeling?"

"Sore," She answered honestly and her expression showed it.

"I'll get the doctor," Peter stated swiftly, already turning towards the exit.

"No," Spencer groaned.

"Spence-" Her dad started, his voice already gaining his lawyering edge.

"If you go get her doctor, they'll just shove her full of meds and make her numb and sleepy," Toby reasoned, running his fingers through her messy hair.

"And besides, if they're already pumping me with more drugs, what will you hang over my head to get me to shut up with asking you questions?" Spencer asked, coyly smiling at her dad.

Peter gave her a look. "Stop it," He scolded, like she was a six year old misbehaving in public.

For a moment, she felt like one. She didn't know when or why she had gotten so oversensitive but she had to swallow the lump in her throat before speaking again. "I want you to leave," She rasped quietly.

"What?" Peter gaped at her.

"Can you just-can you just get out? Please?" She pleaded, a harsh desperation leaking into her voice. "Please?" She asked again.

The older man literally and figuratively threw his hands up, but there was a little hurt in his eyes. "Fine," He said gruffly, heading out the door.

She didn't know why but the second he was gone she felt hot tears begin to fall down her cheeks. Toby quickly moved the tray aside to scoot even closer to her.

"I know I was acting like a-"

Toby cut her off quickly. "Don't even say it, Spencer. He had it coming."

For some reason his words only made her that much more emotional. "Why do I keep crying?" She exclaimed, frustrated. The aggravation was only serving in making her more uptight and on edge.

Toby cupped her wet cheek, her tears tugging at his heartstrings and he leaned forward to pull her completely into the circle of his arms. "Don't hug me," She ordered, working to wipe her tears away and pull herself together. "I need to stop getting worked up so easily."

He sighed now, giving her half an eye roll. "I think you should just let yourself feel whatever you're going to feel, Spence."

"You and I think differently."

"Don't I know it."

His words made her laugh. It was short and it was overwrought, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

Once her tears were all blinked away, she reached for him again. "Okay, now hug me," She directed.

He chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips into her shoulder. "Control freak," He teased.

"Is that news to you?"

He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck and then her cheek. "Nope. I like my alpha Spencer."

She full on snorted and rolled her eyes before pulling back, her thoughts turning back to her father. "I know that he was probably trying to help-"

Toby cut her off, smoothing a stray piece of hair out of her face. "I get it, babe. I know what it's like to have a parent make an already crappy situation worse. It's your parent, even if you tell yourself not to, you expect them to know how to make you feel better. When they don't, it hurts."

He was talking from personal experience. They both knew his dad was less than a pleasant man. A downright jackass, Spencer thought but she kept the thought to herself, the same way she always had when it came to his dad. Whether he was an awful parent or not, Daniel Cavanaugh was Toby's father. No one likes to hear bad things about their family.

She smiled at him, lacing their fingers together. She felt a warm wave of nostalgia, the feeling of having someone that she didn't have to constantly explain herself to. They still had an unspoken understanding, something neither of them had ever found in anyone else in their lives.

None of her friends, families or romantic partners ever seemed to grasp the inner workings of her brain the way Toby did. She'd long ago convinced herself it didn't bother but deep in her bones she knew it did.

"Help me out of bed," she requested, pushing the hospital covers back gracelessly. "I have to use the bathroom."

He suppressed a laugh, helping her to her feet gently. "You got it?" He asked, his hands floating under her arms in case her legs gave out and she hit the ground. It was the first time she had stood on her own two feet in nearly a week. "Maybe we should wait for your mom. She should be back any minute-"

"Toby," Spencer gave him a look. "I don't need mommy taking me to the bathroom. I'm fine."

He nodded simply, not sure if he agreed with her, as she stretched out her legs. He'd known from the moment he'd met her she was incredibly independent and self-sufficient. If anyone hated being helped, it was Spencer. Sometimes he'd joked she had more testosterone in her than he did.

He didn't want to smother her but he damn sure wasn't going to watch her get hurt because she needed to prove her independence.

She groaned slightly as she stiffly walked across the long, private room her parents had procured to the attached bathroom. "Are you still shadowing me?" She asked, but she was laughing, not irritated.

"I just don't want you to face plant. You don't need another concussion," he murmured, still keeping his arms slightly out to catch her if she fell.

His words caught her off guard. "Another concussion?"

He realized no one had told her the official medical diagnosis. She had little clue about the physical injuries she'd sustained. Before he could say anything else though, her feet started to slip out from under her. He lunged forward to catch her but she steadied herself against the white, cold wall.

"I'm fine," she promised, holding her hands up to him, catching her breath. "I'm just a little…."

"Dizzy?" He asked. "Disoriented? Your doctor said it would be normal. It's a side effect of the anti-anxiety and pain meds they're keeping you on."

"I'm on an anti-anxiety medication?" She balked, with an edge of humor and disbelief, continuing towards the bathroom, re-steadied on her feet. "Imagine what a basket case I'd be if I wasn't?"

Toby didn't laugh though, realizing too late that there was a giant mirror inside the bathroom and she'd get a perfect view of her reflection. "You know you can't come in with me," she giggled when he crossed the threshold to the restroom with her. "That's too weird-" Her voice faltered as she caught the image of herself in the crystal clear glass. "Oh my god," she gasped. Toby squeezed his eyes shut, completely regretting not grabbing a sheet and covering the mirror before she ever came in here. "Oh my god," she said again, mesmerized in the worst way by her own image.

The skin on her face was cut nearly a dozen times over. Careful slices had been slashed through her delicate skin, especially around her eyes and the bridge of her nose. The corner of her mouth, where she realized now, Toby had been kissing her, was split open. The skin all around was an angry pink color. Above her eyebrow, taking up nearly a third of her forehead was a large gash, the only wound that evidently required stitches.

It wasn't just her face that had been damaged. Her arms and chest had been excessively scraped, the skin red and bruised. She wondered why she hadn't felt the any of the wounds even one time since her admission.

"It's not that bad, Spence," Toby swore, rubbing her shoulders soothingly. "It's not."

"What happened to me?" She demanded but her voice was breathless, her eyes not leaving her own face.

Toby struggled to find the words that would make this any better. Failure coursed through him at her horrified reaction, though he knew her seeing the damage inflicted was inevitable.

"I have to use the bathroom," Spencer said quietly, finally breaking her eyes away from the mirror. She pushed him towards the door, though he felt wrong about leaving her alone when she looked so fractured. His eyes didn't leave her face as she closed the door to a crack, his heart aching as he saw her swallow a lump her throat and he knew that tears were unavoidable.

She didn't say anything as she exited the bathroom and walked, much less cautiously, back to her bed. He trailed further behind her, being even more careful to not making her feel like an invalid now.

She climbed back in bed and turned on her side away from his chair. He sat down quietly, his eyes agonized as he stared at her bare back and wished desperately she'd let him hold her.

When he heard her sniffle, he couldn't contain himself any longer and reached comfort her, desperate lessen her hurt. She didn't reject him but she didn't welcome his touch either and he settled for rubbing her back in soothing circles. After the silence had all but deafened his ears, Spencer rolled around to face him.

Her face was tinted even darker pink with her tears and she had a haunted look in her eyes. "You know what gets me?" She asked roughly. "It's all surface wounds," She stated, her expression disturbed. "It's just another way for A to show me what they can do to me. They can steal me from my bed in the middle of the night, they can land me in the hospital, they can cut me up like a vegetable. In a couple weeks, it'll all be gone and what they did to my body will seem insignificant to everyone but me."

Toby lurched forward like he was burned. "Spencer, no it won't," he exclaimed, grabbing her hand frantically. "It won't be insignificant to anyone. This person hurt you. No one in their right mind is going to call that insignificant."

She gave him a look that was both awed and exasperated, giving his hand a squeeze. "I wish everyone had your heart, Toby." He pressed a kiss to her hand, then another one to a scrape on her arm. She chuckled then, her expression changing as she wiped under her eyes. "I can almost hear the -A message," she said, dark irony in her voice. "'I'd never leave a scar, Spencer. My dolls have to remain pretty.'"

She expected him to snort or roll his eyes or even just smile sadly. She was caught off guard by him squeezing his eyes shut, like when she used to sit on his lap too long and give him leg cramps. "Is it that hard for you to look at me?" She asked, attempting but not succeeding at keeping her voice light.

His eyes snapped open. "No, of course not!" His voice raised an octave, cracking. "You're beautiful, Spencer-"

But she wasn't in the mood for compliments. "But it's still got to be hard for you to look at me right now, Toby. To stare at a physical representation of A. I'm sick after seeing myself for forty five seconds, I can't imagine looking at me for five days straight."

Toby took a deep breath, shaking his head slowly. "You are just as beautiful as ever. It's what happened to you that's hard to look at."

 _It's hard to think about_ , he thought to himself, but didn't voice it out loud. The last thing Spencer needed was someone reminding her that she had no memory of that night. She looked down at her hospital gown, pinching it in her fingers and twisting it around as she collected her thoughts.

"I don't care about being pretty," She started slowly, her voice growing somber. "It's just never been at the top of my priority list, you know? I care about looking my best and making a good impression but I'm not Hanna, I'm not the type to get worked up about something so superficial."

Toby stroked her fingers with his thumb, listening intently while she took a deep breath and swallowed.

"I just feel so violated," She whispered, her voice breaking. Her coffee colored eyes rose up to meet his and he wondered if having his heart physically ripped from his chest hurt this badly. She bit her lip in spite of herself, to stop herself from crying out, but it was a lost cause.

Without another moment of hesitation, he stood up out of his chair and sat on the edge of her bed, gathering her into his arms. "I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry," he whispered, his own tears falling into her long chestnut hair. He knew there was nothing he could say that'd make it better for her, nothing that would make what she'd just said not true. She tightened her arms around his neck, squeezing with a strength that probably could have been mistaken for a strangle.

"Thank you," she choked out, liquid salt running down her face, fast and furious. "Thank you for being here."

He brushed his lips gently across her temple, cheek and then the shell of her ear.

"I love you, Spencer."


	4. Chapter Four

"' _My cat was kidnapped once. It was the worse_ … _worstest day of my life_ '," Toby read from his chair by her bed.

Spencer giggled, leaning forward to pick up an envelope from the pile that had been so neatly tossed in the middle of her hospital bed. "' _I'd love to help you, but I don't know how. I hope everything works out for you. My name is Marcie Walters and if you need anything, I've enclosed my number along with some cash. It's not much but I figured some was better than none_ '…" Spencer smiled, legitimately touched by the kindness of some people.

Toby picked up another. "' _I hope this letter finds you in good conditions. I thought you should know I've been praying for you every single night and my bible study this week wrote about you in our journals. You're more than welcome to come visit our church. We are Sacred Light on the corner of Southhaven and Greendale_.' … She sounds nice," He offered.

"She sounds like my Nana."

He laughed stridently. "I like your Nana."

"She likes younger men," Spencer wiggled her eyebrows at him.

He wrinkled his nose, picking up another letter. " _'Pretty girls like you shouldn't be harmed. I can keep you'_ …" He didn't even finish reading it before tossing it aside.

"Hey!" Spencer complained. "Toby! I want to know what they said!"

"No, you don't."

She rolled her eyes and lurched forward, digging deep into the pile. She pulled one out that was written in orange sharpie. "' _White girls like you deserve to get their asses kicked. Go suck_ '. . . Okay, you're right. Some of these don't need to be read," She tossed the card next to the other discarded ones.

He gave her a disgusted look before grabbing another. "' _Dear Spencer, I want you to know that so many people out there care about you and your friends. I have followed your story for years and cannot imagine the horrors you've endured. I just want you to know, sweetie, that everything will work out in the end_ '," He trailed off, his eyes looking like they ached.

"What?"

Toby shook his head slightly before giving her a half-smile. "She sounds like my mom," He admitted quietly.

Spencer reached out and took his hand, squeezing it tight. "She sounds amazing."

He smiled again but it didn't reach his eyes now. "This person," He changed the subject, holding up a fat white envelope, "sent you about a hundred dollars."

She smiled. "I got a check for one fifty somewhere in this pile too."

"You got a ten in this one," He pointed to a bright green letter that hadn't even been sealed.

"I think that was a kid's allowance," She laughed softly before leaning away from the pile.

"Hey," Toby touched the inside of her thigh. "If you're tired we can-"

"I'm not tired," She cut off, waving her hand. "It's just. . .these people really think that sending me money is going to help me in some way. Like money is a cure for any bad thing that happens in life."

His hand rubbed down her thigh to her ankle. "I think people just like having some sort of control over hard situations. It makes them happy if they feel like they did something to help."

"I don't need to be anyone's charity case."

"You're not!" He exclaimed adamantly. "People just like to-"

"To help poor little girl, who are wounded and fragile," She finished, grabbing another card from the pile.

"To help people who have had bad things happen to them," He corrected, compellingly.

"Not everyone apparently," She snorted after a minute. " _'I hope you know its attention seeking sluts like you who are ruining our world. Stop stirring up bad shit and maybe bad shit wouldn't happen to you.'_ "

She held the card out to him, smirking. He only read the first sentence for himself before crumbling it up in his hand. She heard him swear under his breath, rolling his eyes in a very Hastings-esque way.

"I think we've had enough card reading for the day," She decided, shoving the envelopes back into the bag her dad had stuffed them in. His protective reaction pleased her, the way it always had, but she fought to keep it inside, the way she always did. "Who sent all these flowers?" She asked, gesturing to the bouquets upon bouquets, all arranged in perfect lines, color coordinated and watered by her mother.

"Everyone in this town," He chuckled. "You're going to have to be more specific which ones you mean."

"The pink and red roses?"

"Hanna and Ashley."

"The yellow daffodils?"

"Aria. I think she wrote Ezra's name on the card too."

"What about the lilies?"

"The white or the red?"

"White."

"My parents," He gave her a slightly exasperated, bemused look.

She let out a disbelieving laugh, short and shocked. "They acknowledged my existence?"

"It would look that way."

"Is hell freezing over?"

He laughed now. "And the hydrangeas are from Emily and her mom, the lilacs are from Mrs. Ackard, I think the three vases of red roses came from one of your neighbors? And the orchids came from some church goers? Uh, the yellow roses came from some woman who said she knew you. I think she worked for your mom? One of your old teachers sent you the violets. Aria's parents sent the sunflowers. Mona sent you one of the carnations and your parents' gardener sent you the others. Dean, your old sober coach sent some too but I didn't pay attention."

"Is the giant bouquet of purple and peach roses from my Nana?" Spencer asked, smiling affectionately.

"Yes," He chuckled. "Your mom said she was planning on coming down to see you."

"Who sent the daisies?"

"Jason."

Spencer snapped her head towards him. "Jason?" She asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, he was actually here before you woke up."

"Why didn't you wake me?" She pressed incredulously, borderline irritated.

"You were sleeping," He reasoned. "I wasn't going to wake you up," He stated like it was the most logical choice in the world. At her disappointed face, he offered, "He said he'll come back. He just," Toby paused, trying to get the words right. "He doesn't want to see your parents. And your mom has been here nonstop."

Spencer sighed. She knew how tense his relationship was with both her mom and their dad, how much animosity laid between them all. "I get it," She finally said. Spencer had always had an understanding with Jason, despite the fact that he often seemed disinterested in building a relationship with his half-sister. Still, the fact that he would come and see her meant a lot.

She, much to her own dismay, found herself getting emotional again. She was beginning to think it was the hospital drugs doing this to her. "Who sent the marigolds?" She asked quickly, to get her mind on something else.

Toby froze, his voice caught for a few seconds. Spencer sensed his distress immediately. "Hey, what's wrong?" She asked gently, reaching to touch his face.

He tried to shake it off, suppressing back whatever had upset him. "Nothing," He took the hand covering his cheek and planted a kiss in the center of it. "Yvonne's parents sent the marigolds," He finally admitted.

Spencer's breath caught in her throat now, a huge pit filling up her stomach, same as days prior when she'd had a full-fledged meltdown at the mere thought of her name.

Her eyes fell to her lap, moving her hand away from him to toy with the blanket he'd brought when she had complained the other one was too abrasive.

They both sat in a tense silence for a full minute. "Did you guys have a bad breakup?" Spencer finally blurted out, having to spit out the words before she lost her courage.

Toby looked down, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, we did."

Before she could pry anymore information out of him, two sets of footsteps joined them in the private room. "Hello, Miss Hastings," Tanner greeted, her mouth twisting into her usual fake smile. Lorenzo Calderon stood by her side, clearly feeling good in his gray suit.

Spencer stuttered for a second on her words, stunned to see them here. "Hi," She finally choked out, looking at Toby like he had any indication to what was going on.

"How are you?" The gray haired woman asked, feigning actual interest in Spencer's well-being as she perched herself on the edge of the hospital bed, opposite side of Toby.

"I'm good," She said, uncomfortable as hell but stifling it down.

 _You're in politics, Hastings,_ She scolded herself. _It's your job to deal with uncomfortable situations with a smile on your face._

Something about this woman though, threw her back into her high school years, made her feel two inches tall and like she was constantly doing something wrong. Spencer could feel herself beginning to sweat just looking at the woman.

"How do you feel?" Tanner asked, giving her a once over, like this is the first time she noticed she was in the hospital.

"I don't feel much," She answered, honestly. At the detective's look, "The drugs. They keep me feeling pretty numb. And sleepy. But it's getting better," She scratched her neck, awkwardly. "They're lessening them, giving me smaller doses."

"So they're treating you well here?" Tanner asked, in her same sugary voice.

"Yes," She smiled, professionally pleasant.

"Good," Tanner matched her smile, though everyone in the room knew she really didn't give a crap how Spencer was being treated.

"So," Lorenzo began, turning slightly towards Toby. "We're here to talk to you about what happened the other night."

Spencer suddenly remembered way back when Toby was in the Harrisburg Police Academy. She remembered him bringing to her house thick books, manuals and spiral journals full of his notes-she'd been overly proud by how intensely he took them-for her to help him study.

 _Officers will often use words and phrases such as "We're here to talk to you", "We want to know more about", "Could you tell me about", instead of words like interview, interrogation, questioning or examination when they don't want the subject to know they're under scrutiny_ , she'd read once in Toby's messy handwriting.

"Maybe Officer Cavanaugh could step out for a few minutes," Lorenzo hinted not so subtly, condescendingly gesturing with his chin towards the door.

Toby's mouth opened a little, the way it always did when he was unsure or embarrassed or insecure. He looked down for a couple seconds before moving to get out of his chair.

Spencer lunged forward and grabbed his hand. "He's staying," She stipulated, her eyes darting between both cops, no room for compromise in her eyes. She suddenly found her nerve when Toby was brought into the equation. "Toby stays with me."

"Miss Hastings-"

"I said," She repeated, gripping his hand tighter, her voice growing louder, "He stays with me."

Both the detectives exchanged a look and Lorenzo scrawled something down on his notepad, attempting to be nonchalant.

_When taking notes during an interview, be subtle. Don't let the subject know what you're writing. Wait ten to fifteen seconds after they say something interesting, so not to tip them off._

_Page 54._

She'd never been more grateful she was such a hands on girlfriend.

Finally Tanner nodded towards the twenty four year old cop. "As you wish," She plastered on a smile again, her voice still sugary and fake.

Spencer relaxed her grip on Toby's hand but didn't let go. She laced their fingers together, giving him a squeeze.

She realized that she was no longer holding his hand to stop him from leaving, but because she needed moral support. She didn't like to admit it aloud-she doubted she ever had-but being around cops put her in a panic, after all that happened in her formative years.

She wondered if Toby knew that. If he could tell she hated cops by principle, if he could tell they scared her to death, gave her chills and made her heart beat faster or if he saw her disdain to the uniform as her turning her nose up to the force, as lesser people.

_"And that's only because being with a cop isn't good enough for you!"_

She realized he definitely thought the latter.

"Toby," Lorenzo addressed, looking up from his notepad. "What is your relationship to Spencer Hastings?"

The dark haired man's tone was patronizing again, like he already knew the answer here and it would discredit Toby's value to sit in on the interview and Spencer had the sudden urge to punch him. People who took swipes at Toby were people she wanted to see in pain.

Lorenzo had been Toby's friend for years. At the time of the breakup, they still were pretty close. The now detective was more than aware that the couple had broken up and more than likely, Toby's relationship with Yvonne Phillips. He was asking to prove a point to Toby, that he had no business inside this room.

That's why Toby's reaction took her by surprise. "I'm her boyfriend," The twenty four year old stated, like it was obvious. He held up their entwined hands for half a second to demonstrate.

But the declaration was more than to prove a point. There was something protective brewing under his tone and Spencer wondered what exactly was between the two men that she was in the dark about.

Nonetheless, she smiled proudly at her police officer, as he'd finally put to rest a question that had been brewing inside her since she'd woken up inside the hospital. What were they? Where did they stand?

She supposed she already knew. If his constant presence didn't answer it for her, his declaration of love earlier should have. Still, she was grateful to be able to put all insecurities to rest.

Her insecurities could simmer down but she still had plenty of inquiries. Even apart from the night in question, even speaking exclusively romantic, she had gaps in her understanding.

When and how did Yvonne and Toby break up? How did Toby end up being allowed in her hospital room, when no one else besides her family could get in? How did Toby jump from _"I'm gonna make this up to you, Yvonne"_ to calling it quits and sitting Virgil at his first love's bedside? How did they jump from " _I had a good teacher_ " to declaring their love once again?

These questions were all zooming around the back of her brain, as she was still being interrogated by a detective and lieutenant that weren't her biggest fans.

She felt Toby kiss the back of her hand and she gave him another squeeze.

"Now I understand you have slight amnesia," Tanner started out, her voice gaining an edge that was supposed to be gentle but seemed to Spencer rather conciliating. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Spencer wracked her brain, realizing only now that she hadn't asked herself this question. Why hadn't she? She knew she had been overwhelmed-slight understatement-but isn't this an obvious question? Shouldn't this be the first thing you think about?

"Uh," The brunette looked at her lap, panic seeping into her veins like a drug being inserted in her IV.

"Hey," Toby said quietly, smoothing back her hair, before leaning forward to press his lips to her cheek. "Don't stress yourself out," He whispered in her ear. "Just relax. It's all fine."

She nodded quickly, trying to appear at ease. "I guess, going to bed the night before…" She finally answered, her voice more unsure than she liked.

"The night you were kidnapped out of your bed?" Lorenzo asked, cocking an eyebrow. Spencer hesitated again, looking at Toby even though he couldn't help. "Do you remember the day before the attack?" Lorenzo probed.

"No?" She answered, like a question.

 _Get it together_ , she scolded herself. _You did nothing wrong. Don't let these small town cops intimidate you._

But it was so hard when you're lying in a hospital, your entire life spinning out of control.

She cleared her throat, willing herself to buck up. "No, I don't," She answered firmly. "I don't remember the day before the kidnapping."

Lorenzo and Tanner both analyzed her facial expressions before nodding and moving onto the next question.

Spencer couldn't help but notice she wasn't being treated like a kidnap victim found inside an abandoned building. Maybe the thought wouldn't have occurred to her if not for the dollhouse. She never thought she'd see the day she'd get anything useful out of those horrific three and a half weeks but she knew what it was like to have the cops look at you like the victim instead of the tormentor. This was distinctly different.

"So the last thing you remember is going to bed Sunday night," Tanner said as a statement before directing to Lorenzo, "She has amnesia of nearly forty eight hours prior to the attack."

When put like that, so point blank, it chilled her.

"What is your relationship to Sydney Driscoll?" The older woman asked.

The question caught Spencer off guard. "What?"

"How would you describe your relationship to Sydney Driscoll?"

 _Suspicious_ , she thought to herself but didn't voice it. It didn't sound like a good answer and she was getting the feeling she was being asked more than she realized.

"We didn't really know each other," Spencer finally answered.

Tanner's eyes flashed to Lorenzo. "Didn't?"

 _Past tense._ The twenty three year old flushed, despite not totally understanding what about using the past tense was so wrong. "We never had much of a relationship and… during the end of my senior year, I guess she just fell off my radar?"

Tanner nodded before looking-much less obvious than Lorenzo-down at her notes. "What about Noel Kahn?" She asked, her voice still laced with false pleasantries and Spencer had to fight to urge to kick her off the bed.

"What about Noel Kahn?"

"W-Are you guys friends?'' Tanner inquired.

_Not how she'd describe it._

"Not in the classical sense," Spencer, to her credit, answered very steadily, this time keeping her head.

"What do you mean by that?" The woman's voice was actually insulting when heard enough. Spencer wondered how Toby learned at her feet and didn't lose his marbles.

The lobbyist pursed her lips for a moment. "We haven't spoken in years. And when we were in high school we only spent time together when we had to. But we ran in similar groups and had mutual friends."

Both detectives seemed to accept that answer. "Are you friends with Lucas Gottesman?"

Spencer narrowed her eyes. "More or less," She answered dispassionately. "Why are you asking me about people I knew in school?" She asked, her voice once again strong and now with a new, sharp edge.

Tanner shrugged and shook her head, clear denial.

_Don't let the suspect assume you think they're anything but a routine interview._

_Page 98._

_When suspect grows defensive, stay calm and make them feel unsure about your opinion of them. When they're confused, they'll make mistakes._

_Page 103._

"We're just collecting facts, to start with," Tanner assured, a smile that didn't hit her eyes appearing and dissolving before anyone could register it.

_The phrases routine, collection of evidence, facts and gathering information are your best tools when speaking with a suspicious and/or defensive subject._

_Page 110, Chapter 5 review._

The idea that they were seeing her as something other than confused was terrifying to her, like admitting your greatest fear and having it invalidated. When you talk about things that petrify you, people are supposed to believe you. This was like déjà vu back to high school, a complete carbon copy rerun of her hellish formative years and Spencer started to feel nauseous.

She refused to look at Toby, knowing he'd see just how rattled she was. She didn't know if he'd just sit there and give her silent support or if he'd try to intervene in the interview. Either way, she didn't want to find out. She didn't need three people making her feel like she was under a microscope, even unintentionally. He had the best of intentions, always, but there were times when Spencer wasn't so grateful that he could see right through her. There were perks to being with guys who didn't know her through and through, that didn't see her heart every time they looked in her eyes.

She could lie them.

"How well did you know Kenna Greenbrook?" Lorenzo asked now, his turn to press questions into her brain.

"Who?" She asked, narrowing her eyes, not even keeping her irritation out of her voice.

"She was a patient at Radley during your stay," The inexperienced detective informed, offhandedly. "What about Maddie Coffman?"

Spencer looked between him and Tanner blankly. "I don't know who either of them are."

"Do you remember Krystal Loot?" The dark haired guy asked next.

"No."

"What about Eddie Lamb?" Lorenzo asked next, this time with more infliction.

Spencer was once again, blindsided by the question. "Eddie Lamb?" She repeated incredulously. "What does he have to do with this? What do any of these people have-"

Before she could finish her sentence a voice rang through her ear.

_"Get down, now!" A strong hand was pressing on her back, holding her down to the ground, underneath their much larger body, her back to their chest. The gesture wasn't threatening in the least. The exact opposite. It was protective, sheltering, defending. They were shielding her. They weren't her enemy, they were her ally. They were covering her at their own expense. "When I say run, run and do not look back, Spencer."_

The gesture wasn't real either, she realized, as she snapped out of it and took in her surroundings. The white walls, the papery sheets, the smell of disinfectant, the beeping of the machines around her, the three cops that were all looking at her like they were contemplating sending her to the hospital's Psych Ward.

"Spencer," Toby squeezed her hand, bringing her back to reality. "Babe? What is it?"

The brunette shook her head, unable to grasp completely what just happened. She felt the way she did when she tried to see underwater. Everything was blurry and fleeting and nothing felt real.

"I'm fine," She blinked hard three times and took a deep, exaggerated breath.

"Should we call the doctor?" Lorenzo asked Toby. Tanner's eyes were on the sergeant as well, instead of the girl in the hospital bed.

"I said," Spencer projected louder but she'd lost her confidence. "I'm fine."

Both detectives looked at her for three silent seconds before glancing at each other and moving on.

"You've been made aware that your friends and family informed us that -A is back?" Tanner asked, segueing into a new topic.

"Not -A," Spencer corrected, automatically. "It's someone new. Charlotte's dead."

Tanner didn't seem to register her answer at all.

"How has this -A threatened you?"

She processed the question for a second, eying Toby in confusion. "You mean, how have they communicated? Same as always. Through texts."

Tanner almost looked like she wanted to smile, like she knew the answer on a pop quiz that Spencer had just answered incorrectly. "We searched both your phone and your friends' phones. There have been no -A messages that we can find."

Once again, she was caught off guard. Evidently so was Toby, as she heard him make a choking noise from his place to her right. "What?" He hissed but for some reason, it made perfect sense to Spencer.

Of course -A would delete their messages, same as Charlotte had. You'd never leave a trail behind you. Anyone with common sense would know that. Cover your tracks. That way, all the girls' hands were tied. How could they ask for help when no one could believe them without proof?

"Of course," Spencer breathed aloud.

"What was that?" Tanner leaned in.

"-A deleted all the messages, just like Charlotte did when Hanna was arrested. It's their way of making it so we could never tell. We can't prove it so we'll have to keep our mouths shut," She didn't know why she was explaining this to someone who probably would rather chew on rocks than help her but it exploded out of her. The desperate little girl inside that still held a shred of hope that maybe, after all she'd been through and all this town had witnessed, maybe they'd believe she was telling the truth.

And with one sentence that hope shriveled.

"That's convenient," Tanner noted evenly, her eyes studying Spencer's face for a few seconds longer than necessary.

Feeling like someone had just kicked her hard in the chest, moisture filled up in her eyes. Spencer snapped her head in Toby's direction, her stress evident on her face. He met her eyes with his own pain filled orbs, and moved his hand to rub her arm, soothingly.

"Have you ever shot a gun?" Lorenzo asked.

Too frazzled to really process the question, Spencer just looked at him.

"What the hell kind of question is that?" Toby snapped.

"It's a simple one," Lorenzo defended.

"No, it's a gross over-generalization. Nearly everyone has shot a gun at some point in their life," The sandy brunette argued. "Be more specific."

"Did you take firearm lessons during your freshman year of college?" The male detective redirected, patronizingly, at the girl in the bed.

"Yes," She admitted, quietly, still holding Toby's hand, feeling completely powerless.

"Did you buy a gun that same year?"

She squeezed his hand hard. "Yes."

"She wanted to feel safe," Toby defended adamantly. "She was put through hell for two years straight and then two months later, thrown into the world. She didn't know how to protect herself. She made a logical choice. An understandable choice, for someone who had gone through the complete hell she had."

"And she shared all this with you?" Tanner pressed, almost excited by the young cop's outburst. "For the record, you were made aware of all this?"

"For the record, I _encouraged_ it."

"What happened to the gun?" Lorenzo tried to push the focus back on Spencer to speak.

She shrugged, trying to appear cool though she was still completely shell-shocked. "I sold it two weeks after buying it."

"To whom?"

"My roommate's boyfriend's friend. He didn't go to school with us."

"And did you cooperate in accordance to the appropriate Firearm Safety Laws?" Detective Calderon inquired, looking down at his notes once again.

Spencer's breathing hitched. "What?"

"Did you make sure that the person who bought the gun from you wasn't a convicted felon, someone with a history of domestic violence or mentally compromised?"

She hesitated before answering. "I assumed my roommate would have told me if he wasn't safe." The chocolate haired girl adverted her eyes, aware that her justification was as weak as a twig.

Tanner moved on, clearly uninterested in Lorenzo's line of questioning. "How much did you sell it for?"

The bruised, cut up girl shrugged. This was a topic she had been unprepared to ever talk about. It was one she had tried as hard as she could to forget. She could almost feel the shame same as if it were yesterday, embarrassed by her own fear, as if she was failing because, even after all she'd been through, she was scared of a piece of steel. "My roommate sold it to him for me. I just gave her the gun and got the money."

"You don't know how much you got for it?" Tanner pushed, raising an eyebrow.

Spencer swallowed hard, trying to keep her panic at bay. "I think like, fifty?" She wasn't sure. She had told her roommate, Riley, she just wanted it gone and once it was, she'd shoved the money into her purse without even counting it.

She realized only now how bad that sounded. How no one would believe Spencer Hastings didn't meticulously count everything or that she'd ever submit control to someone else. But holding the gun in her hands had chilled her to the bone. She was petrified of it. She didn't care what it took, she wanted it gone.

"How much did you pay for it?" The younger detective asked, snapping her once again, back to reality.

The twenty three year old's eyes flashed to Toby's. He mouthed the price at her, calmly. "Five fifty."

"Five hundred and fifty dollars?" Lorenzo clarified.

She nodded, taking a deep breath. "You sold it for an eleventh of what you paid for it?" Tanner asked, taken aback.

Spencer nodded again, feeling embarrassed, as Toby gave her hand another kiss.

"And I'm assuming you were very involved in this, since she looked at you for the price," The older female noted.

"I researched where and took her to buy it on one of my visits down to see her," Toby answered, completely straight-forward.

Spencer was actually impressed by how well Toby was keeping his cool through this. She knew in her head she shouldn't be beating herself up, since she was the one with amnesia in the hospital bed but even so, it was eerie that he could hold up so well under such intense scrutiny while she was cracking.

Tanner nodded. "And why were you so desperate to sell it?"

"I was scared," She tried not to cringe at her own words. "I was scared of it after a while."

The lieutenant leaned in closer to the girl, placing a hand on her leg. "Were you scared of yourself around a weapon?"

Spencer blanched in shock at how blatantly she asked but before she could ever recover enough to respond, Toby was standing. "Okay, that's enough. Get out," He ordered through clenched teeth.

Tanner stood too. "Officer Cavanaugh-"

"I said, get the fuck out of her hospital room."

Even Tanner, the seasoned cop, was caught off guard by Toby's reaction. "Spencer's boyfriend cannot end the interview," Lorenzo stated, refusing to be intimidated by an inferior officer.

Toby didn't say another word to either of the cops. Instead, he stood up, not dropping Spencer's hand inside his, and slammed his finger down on the help button.

"Is there a problem, Miss Hastings?" A bright female voice said, immediately.

"I think the cops in here are disturbing Spencer," Toby noted, his eyes meeting the two detectives defiantly.

Tanner stood up from her seat on the edge of Spencer's hospital bed. "I take it you're not coming back to work anytime soon, Cavanaugh?" She asked, her voice frosty.

He narrowed his eyes. "Last I checked, I was on indefinite suspension."

_He was? How did he get suspended? Why did he get suspended?_

Despite her confusion, Spencer couldn't help but be impressed by how assertively Toby was handling himself. The boy she'd known five years ago would have cowered the second Tanner or any superior even faintly challenged him. Seeing him, secure and firm, the way he always should have been, honestly turned her on a little.

Toby brought Spencer's hand to his mouth once more as unkind footsteps stormed down the hallway, into the room, too angry to be any medical professionals.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Veronica's voice boomed as she threw her purse down in her usual chair. "You were interviewing my daughter, without proper representation?"

Tanner gestured to Toby. "A sergeant was present the entire time."

"And you deemed him unfit to end the interview when you tried to coerce Spencer," Toby shot back.

Peter, who was shadowed by a doctor and a nurse, blocked both detectives from leaving. "Let's talk out in the hall." There was no room for argument in the lawyer's voice.

Both Tanner and Lorenzo followed the older man. Instantly upon their departure, Spencer let out a huge breath that sounded like a sob. Toby sat down on the edge of her bed, cradling her head in his hands. "Spence-"

"They think I did it!" She cried. "I can't even remember and-"

"Shhh-"

"They think I hurt all those people!" The names flashed through her mind, names that no one informed her of, names she hadn't even thought to ask about. Noel, Lucas, Sydney, Eddie Lamb. And names she'd never even heard of.

"Calm down," He whispered, smoothing her hair back.

"I didn't do it! I can't even remember-"

"I know," He swore. "I know, babe."

The doctor was saying something to Veronica but everything besides Toby was blurry, like they were covered by a dirty glass wall. There was a beeping of the heart monitor and the sound of her mom's voice and fingers running through her hair and a nurse speaking and someone writing with a ballpoint pen and it was all too much.

Toby placed a kiss on her forehead, then one on her temple. "Breathe," He commanded.

"I can't handle this," She whispered anxiously before she turned her fear into anger, like she was so good at. "Why can't I handle this?"

"You need to stop working yourself up," Her boyfriend stated firmly. "Spencer, take a breath."

There was a dip in the other side of her bed. "Honey," Her mother's voice rang calmly, her long fingers moving to push her hair out of her face. "You need to calm down."

"Just sedate me, alright?" She caved, metaphorically throwing her hands up. "I changed my mind. I want to be sedated."

Veronica shook her head. "No, we're not erasing the progress you've made over a couple of moronic cops."

"I don't want to be awake anymore."

Toby caught her off-guard, climbing onto the bed to sit opposite her mother. He, without a word, folded her into his arms. "Breathe," He ordered calmly, taking a deep breath in and letting it out, his chest against her's as to demonstrate the point.

She sighed and laid against him, allowing her body to naturally pick up his breathing pattern. She, much to her own dismay, felt her face grow wet with new tears as her panic subsided.

Instead of moving to lie back, she buried her face deeper into his shirt, hoping to hide it. She knew she couldn't though and found confirmation of this when his fingers ran through her hair, massaging her scalp, one of his key comfort tactics.

"I'm such a mess," She admitted, through her heavy waterworks. "I'm a fucking disaster."

Toby responded only by rocking her back and forth and clutching her tighter. His lips kissed away the tears off one side of her face, slowly working their way back to her ear. "You're my perfect disaster. And I wouldn't change a thing about you," He whispered.

The words meant little in the grand scheme of things but they worked to soothe her in that moment. It was the feeling of someone articulating out loud, exactly what you wished inside your head to hear. Not disputing the statement itself but somehow making it infinitely better. The sloppy grin that took up residence on her face lifted a weight off her chest and she found the strength to lay back.

"Hand me my water, please," She requested softly. She scanned the room as he bent down to get the plastic water bottle off the ground. Her mother, she noted, taking the liquid from Toby, had disappeared. Not surprising, she supposed, as her parents seemed to trust Toby with her emotional needs more than they trusted themselves. They always had too, since she was seventeen.

As she took gulps of it, he touched her face, tenderly. He kept his fingers there, stroking her tear-stricken face for minutes on end, as she tried to pull herself together, feeling like a glass vase that had been cracked and repaired with super glue. You can hope it holds but it'll never be the same.

When she could breathe easy and her face was no longer wet, he trailed his hand down to touch her leg, squeezing it slightly. She waited for him to speak, still taking big gulps of water.

"I'm sorry," He finally said, his eyes miserable.

She nearly spit out her water. "What?"

"I should have kicked Tanner and Lorenzo out the second they-"

"It wouldn't have made a difference," She disputed.

"I should have done a better job of fielding away unnecessary questions," He insisted, contritely. "I let them get inside your head."

She nearly laughed, her chest still slightly aching from her roller-coaster of heavy emotions. " _I_ let them get inside my head, Toby. It was my fault."

He gave her a half smile, before dropping his gaze again, introspective. "Do you remember why I became a cop?"

Spencer scrunched up her face. "To protect me."

How on earth could she forget that? No one else had ever done anything for her like that. No one else had ever loved her like that.

"And I failed," He admitted, his own tears falling now. "I completely failed-"

"Toby, don't say that!" She exclaimed, leaning up in her hospital bed.

"It's true," He continued, holding firm to his own remorse. "You felt rejected, you were pushed to other men for comfort, then you were arrested and kidnapped and tortured-"

"That was Charlotte-"

"Spencer," He chimed, giving her a long, forlorn look that she could barely even understand. "I originally got this job to protect you and, even five years later, all I ever do is fail you, over and over again."

"But that isn't true-"

"But it is," He argued. "All I want to do is make your life easier and all I do is make it difficult." Her chest ached again but now for entirely different reasons. The way his voice broke and he could barely look her in the eye cut into her even deeper than anything the cops had done.

Sometimes loving someone so much was a weakness. You hurt when they hurt. They had the fantastic ability to break your heart more efficiently than a hammer to the chest. Even in the strongest moments, their pain could effortlessly rip you to pieces. All you wanted to do is make it better and yet, sometimes it was just impossible.

She knew they both felt that way. Their lives had been overwhelmed by tragedies that neither of them could prevent. Sometimes it felt like the universe was working against them.

But sometimes it felt like the universe gave them each other so they could have the strength to overcome their tragedies. So they could survive, move on and rebuild.

"What are you talking about?" She asked gently, cupping the side of his face. She forced him to look at her. "You are the most wonderful person I know. Look at all you've done for me. You cuddled up to your tormentor for the slim chance it would help me, you joined the -A team for no other reason other than protect me, you flew across the world to try and get information for me and you literally gave up your entire life to end my nightmare." The words brought tears back to her eyes. "And I was so ungrateful for that for so long. I treated you like a traitor. I shut you out. I cheated on you. And you did nothing but love me unconditionally and I can never repay you for that," She whispered, completely choked up by her own words.

They both fell silent for a long time before he finally turned his head to kiss the palm that rested on his cheek. "I love you, Spencer."

"I love you too," She whispered and in that instant she needed his lips on her's, she needed to thread her fingers through his hair, and taste their spit mingled together.

So that's exactly what she did.


	5. Chapter Five

They kissed and nuzzled noses and held each other hungrily. When she grew tired and breathless, Toby planted open mouth kisses on her chest as she relaxed in the stiff bed, her back against the thin pillows.

"Are my parents still talking to Tanner and Lorenzo?" Spencer asked, giggling at the feeling of his kisses.

"Probably," He mumbled against her skin.

"What do you think about?" She wondered sleepily.

"Hopefully they're ripping them a new one."

She chuckled darkly. "Doesn't usually take this long for them to ream people out."

He raised his head, pulling her hospital gown back into place, adjusting it up higher on her shoulders. "Do you want me to go check on them?" He asked, his tone light, giving her a knowing smile.

"If you don't mind," She smiled sweetly.

"I don't," He pecked her lips before standing up. "Will you be oka-"

"I'm fine!" She insisted boisterously. "Please, go find my parents! I want to know what's happening. I've never been good sitting out of confrontations."

 _Even when it's for my own good_ , she thought, irritated with herself, irritated that her body was betraying her, making her jump between her normal, assured self and a panicky, shaking, foreign new one.

 _Or not so foreign_ , she thought. Just a version of herself she hadn't been for five years. A version she hoped to tuck away with all the other ghosts in her past.

"Press the help button if you need me to come back," He directed calmly. His demeanor was surprisingly familiar and it dawned on her that Toby's behavior reminded Spencer of _herself_. Tight wound and tense and full of anxiety.

She couldn't fault him for being uptight though, considering this was the first time he was leaving while she was conscious. He didn't know what to expect, the way she'd been jumping between emotions like a bipolar nutcase.

"I'll be fine," She promised again, unable to keep her tone serious. "Go!"

"If you can't reach the button-"

"Get out!"

* * *

No more than ten minutes after Toby left did another figure appear in the doorway. They lingered there for a good thirty seconds and Spencer wondered who was afraid to see her.

 _She should have known_ , she thought to herself as Hanna Marin slowly made her way over to Spencer's bedside.

"Hey, Spence."

The brunette just looked at her, the irony not lost on her that the last time the two girls saw each other, it was the other one lying in a hospital bed. Though she was in better shape than Spencer, sustaining close to not wounds, only slightly hypothermic.

Spencer remembered how Hanna had appeared almost challenging when she dropped the bombshell on her best friend, that the blonde had kissed the boy that had come between them. Essentially proving to everyone she had won. She had taken back what had belonged to her in everyone else's mind.

The words weren't a huge shock to Spencer, despite the fact they felt like a thick punch in the chest. She had seen the way Caleb had reacted to Hanna's kidnapping. Even beyond him shoving her away from him in the hotel room and yelling at her, berating her like her father, for something she didn't do. Even beyond the fact that he never apologized for being wrong or hurting her feelings. She knew something was very off about him.

When they finally located Hanna, in an abandoned shack, freezing cold and wet, Caleb had ran to her like she was water in the desert. He had cradled her in his arms and kissed her forehead and buried his face in her damp, blonde locks. She remembered thinking to herself, _he's never held you like that. He never looked at you like the sun shone in your eyes or like your heartbeat was his oxygen_.

But someone else had.

Almost surprisingly, seeing them together didn't make her wish she was Hanna. She wasn't envious of the golden haired girl in the slightest, even though the guy holding her was actually Spencer's beau.

Seeing the two of them made her wish they were still eighteen, that their love lives were a lot less complicated, messy and all bled together.

Seeing them together may not have made her wish to be Hanna but it did spark something ugly inside her. It made her wish she had the ability to go back in time three years, and never break up with the blue eyed cop that made her feel alive. She craved to feel the way Hanna and Caleb felt for each other. She craved the strong arms that once were her home and the soft tone that was a lullaby to her ears. She missed the goofy, sweet grin that melted her heart and the sandy brown hair that she could play with for days.

She didn't want to be Hanna. She wanted to be _Yvonne_.

On the way to the hospital, as Caleb cradled Hanna in his lap and brushed her hair from her eyes, Spencer could almost feel Toby's arms around her and she couldn't help the memories pouring in of what it felt like to be loved by the one person you wanted to be loved by more than anything in this world.

She realized then, that she was only putting a band-aid named Caleb Rivers over a bigger wound that had been sustained three years ago. She had waited for it to heal and when it didn't, she learned to live with the pain. She learned to choose anything that lessened the hurt, no matter what it cost or who it tramped on. She'd done just about anything to numb feelings so strong, they threatened to swallow her whole.

She realized how backwards her reaction really was. She gets cheated on and it only shows her how much she loved her ex?

It's not that seeing Caleb take care of Hanna so lovingly and affectionate didn't hurt. It did. It hurt like hell. But she noted, somewhat sardonically, that it was definitely not the worst betrayal she'd ever felt in a relationship.

It didn't even make the top five.

Nonetheless, she'd never felt like more of an outsider inside her group of friends and that alone, tied her stomach into knots and made her feel like she was one wrong look from bursting straight into tears.

Toby didn't come to the hospital. He and Ezra went home after finding Hanna all but fine, just wet and cold.

Emily and Aria were silent, unsure what to say in this overly complex situation.

Caleb refused to look her in the eye.

He'd carried Hanna in, yelling desperately for help, despite the fact that she was awake, coherent and had zero visible injuries. He'd followed the stretcher into the exam room until the doctor himself ordered him out. He'd paced back and forth, asking for an update every time he saw a familiar nurse.

He'd acted like a lunatic. But that's what happens when you love someone that much.

Spencer had come to stand by him at one point, working up to courage to ask if Hanna's doctor had told him anything. Before she could speak though, Caleb backed away, none too subtly. She'd looked at him, more than a little confused, but he stared straight ahead. Almost like he thought acknowledging her presence was a treachery to Hanna.

She felt like an intruder with her own boyfriend. She felt the same way she did when Alison would play games during their Freshman year of high school. Stung, baffled, disbelieving, embarrassed. Like when Alison had a sleepover with the girls and excluded her for no other reason, than to be cruel.

When he talked, he directed it only to Emily and Aria. He turned his back on her, literally and figuratively.

In hindsight, she felt the cheating before she was ever told. When Hanna had spilled, nearly thirteen hours after being rescued and after seeing Caleb privately for forty seven minutes, Spencer's first thought was _of course_. She had mentally prepared herself for Hanna and Caleb's enviable reconciliation. She should have been prepared to find out they hadn't waited for Spencer to be out of the picture.

The cheating hurt worse than she could have imagined and truth be told, it had nothing to do with Caleb. His rejection and exclusion didn't feel _good_. But it was absolutely nothing to being betrayed by her best friend.

She didn't know if it was right or wrong but she felt ten times more hurt from Hanna's side than Caleb's. Maybe because she loved her best friend longer than she had her boyfriend of few weeks. Maybe she, like Hanna once said, expected more from her friend.

Maybe a part of her always thought he might do this to her.

She remembered how remorseless Hanna looked. How she was almost proud of the fact that her and Caleb kissed. She'd looked at Spencer, from her perch on the edge of the hospital bed, getting dressed to go home and her eyes gave her away.

She wanted to be sorry but she just wasn't.

Maybe she did feel bad for hurting her. Maybe she did feel truly sorry for trampling on Spencer to get Caleb back. Or maybe that was just background noise to her own love story.

It occurred to Spencer then what she hadn't been able to place before. Hanna felt entitled to Caleb, even when he was technically someone else's. And nothing would make her sorry for doing what she had to do to get him back.

Spencer knew all along, she wasn't some helpless little victim. She played her part a hundred different ways. She'd made more missteps and mistakes since returning to Rosewood than she had the past five years combined. She'd trampled on just as many people's feelings, if not more, and yet somehow it took until now for her to really realize how much she alone had screwed up.

She remembered everything about that day, a disadvantage of having her meticulous memory. How the room smelled sterile, how the sheets on the bed were kicked to the end, how Caleb had left his jacket in the corner, how Hanna was already getting dressed as they walked in, her hospital gown discarded on the floor, how she looked almost no different than she had before she was taken, how Aria and Emily looked blissfully happy at the blonde's confession, despite the fact that it stepped on their other friend, how Spencer had to fight the urge to vomit, how she'd left the hospital about three minutes after finding out about the kiss, how she'd texted Caleb numbly and told him to get his shit from the barn and never come back.

She remembered all the looks exchanged and the hurt and anger and fear and confusion but all of that no longer mattered to her, because in spite of everything that had gone down, she loved Hanna. Hanna was her best friend. And she'd be damned if Caleb Rivers came between them.

Hanna was still waiting for a response to her greeting, looking fearful and contrite. Spencer didn't say anything back to her. Instead she opened her arms and the fair haired friend let out a loud sigh of relief and ran into them.

"I'm sorry," She murmured tearfully into Spencer's mahogany hair. "I'm so sorry."

The hospitalized girl shook her head, quickly. "No, Han, I'm sorry. I screwed everything up first."

"No, I should have been honest," Hanna countered, keeping her arms locked around Spencer's neck. "I should have been honest with myself. It was never your fault that I lied about my feelings for Caleb."

"But I'm your best friend. I'm supposed to know this stuff."

"It's not your job."

"That doesn't mean I wasn't wrong," The brunette insisted.

"No, it means you're human," Hanna pulled back and wiped her eyes.

Spencer laughed lightly. "You're smudging your mascara," She wiped underneath the other girl's eye.

Hanna giggled in spite of herself before turning serious again. "I really am sorry," She whispered. "For everything. It was stupid of me to treat you like-"

The brunette held up her hands. "It doesn't matter. None of it does. And besides," She shrugged, penitent. "I more than played my part in this mess. I'm just as much to blame for what happened."

Her friend gave her a sad smile, taking her hand. "I miss you."

"I miss you too," Spencer matched her smile.

The shorter girl's grin turned watery and Spencer realized she was giving her a once over.

"It doesn't hurt," She assured gently as her friend's tears began to spill. "I know it's hard to see," She added. "I can barely look at myself without flinching, trust me. I know it's not a pretty sight."

Hanna shook her head rapidly. "No, Spence. No," She wiped underneath her eyes again, really messing up her makeup now. "You're still so pretty. It's just-I just feel so bad," She whispered, her words getting caught in her throat.

"Why?" Spencer exclaimed, taking her other hand now too. "You didn't-"

"Because," Hanna interrupted, seeing where she was going, "when I threw myself into the line of fire, everyone was watching my back. I was the first thought in everyone's mind. No one was looking out for you. It's not fair-"

"Han," The brunette gave her hands a squeeze. "You didn't know. No one did. We thought -A was gone after their stunt with you."

But the blonde wasn't going to be soothed. "We've been playing this game too long for us to underestimate our enemy."

Spencer looked down at her lap, quiet for a moment until a chuckle escaped from her chest. "Well, you were kidnapped anyway so it looks like having everyone watch your back doesn't do you much good."

Hanna laughed at her words before turning solemn again. "Are you in pain?"

"No," She laughed gutturally. "No, not at all. Feel bad for me when I'm home without any drugs. Right now, I feel like my skin is rubber. The only time I can feel much of anything is when Toby kisses me."

Hanna's bright blue eyes popped out of their sockets. "When Toby what?" She exclaimed, a huge grin covering her face.

"Yeah," Spencer had no idea why but the words made her redden.

"Oh my god, look at you blush!" Hanna exclaimed, excited, squeezing her friend's hand so tight it should have been painful.

"Shut up, Hanna," But she giggled despite herself.

"You guys are back together?" Spencer nodded, still smiling bashfully. "How did you manage that in a hospital room?"

"I don't know," The chocolate haired girl shrugged. "I just woke up and he was here and. . . I don't know," She said again. "We just did."

She realized how awful that answer sounded and it probably would have really bugged her if she had room in her brain for one more thing. Her reconciliation with Toby was honestly the only positive that had happened in days and, with the stress of the missing memory haunting her every second, she really didn't care how strange and effortless the reconciliation was.

Hanna didn't seem to get too hung up on the fact that Spencer and Toby were dating two other people barely over a week ago. She didn't even ask what changed between them.

"Oh my god!" The fairer girl squealed again, grabbing her friend's arm tightly.

Spencer grinned at her enthusiasm but, the little cynical voice in the back of her mind rang, that there was little chance Spencer could ever reciprocate this conversation the other way. There could be a permanent barrier between the two girls and it made her sad, that in spite of all they'd gone through together, they'd let something like this come between them.

Spencer reached out her arms again, embracing her friend earnestly. "I love you, Hanna."

The blonde squeezed her tighter. "I love you too."

* * *

Not long after the two girls made up, two other figures crossed the threshold. "Spence!" Aria yelped, running straight to the girl in the hospital gown.

"Are you okay?" Emily's eyes were wide with concern, the words out of her mouth before she could even get a good glimpse of Spencer.

Unlike the others, the tanner friend hugged her very delicately, being careful not to hurt her already wounded body. "It's okay, Em, I'm not in any pain. You can hug me."

Emily tightened her arms around her. "We were here in the waiting room all of the first night," She swore, like she was afraid Spencer was upset with them.

"I know, Toby told me," Spencer assured, pulling out from the embrace to lean back in the lumpy bed.

"The hospital wouldn't let anyone not related to you visit," Emily said anyway, like a justification. "Well, besides they let Toby visit," She added, smiling slightly.

"Congenital visits," Hanna snorted.

"Shut up, Hanna," Spencer commanded sleepily.

"If you're too tired," Aria started, seeing Spencer's eyes droop slightly.

"No," She waved off. "It's the drugs. Keeps my pain down but it also keeps me tired."

All three girls looked at her with a sad smile and Spencer couldn't tell if it was guilt or pity in their expressions. Maybe a little of both.

There seemed to be something brewing beneath the exterior. Even in her current state, Spencer could see that. "What is it?" She asked.

"Huh?"

"What's what?"

"Hmm?"

They all were looking at her puzzled. "Guys, I can tell something's up," Spencer persisted. "You look like you're all trying not to vomit. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Emily answered quickly. "We just-" She looked at the other two for a second. "We were just wondering what exactly . . . happened."

Spencer looked at her friend for a full minute, unable to comprehend what she was asking.

Aria mistook her silence. "Unless you aren't ready to talk about it-''

"Which we totally understand," Emily cut in, taking Spencer's hand quickly. "You don't have to tell us if you aren't ready."

"Em, don't say that. I wanna know what happened," Hanna hissed.

Aria nudged the blonde roughly. "Han-"

"What?" She exclaimed. "We're her best friends, she can tell us anything-"

"But she might not be ready," Emily said placidly.

Spencer watched the entire spectacle play out before clearing her throat. "Guys," She sighed, looking at her lap somberly.

Hanna's face fell, quickly changing her mind. "Spence, it's okay. You don't have to tell us anything if you're not ready."

"All that we care about is you," Emily squeezed her hand.

"Yeah, we're just glad you're okay," Aria smiled, trying to appear comforting.

"Guys," Spencer said again, shaking her head. "It's not that. It's not that I don't _want_ to tell you. It's that I don't remember."

All their mouths fell open. "What?" Hanna gasped.

"I don't remember what happened. I don't know what -A did," She admitted, getting emotional, just like every other time she'd admitted this, feeling almost inadequate, despite having little control over whether or not she blacked out. "Everything's a big blank from that night."

"Oh my god," Emily rubbed her arm.

"Spence," Aria exclaimed breathlessly.

"What much do you not remember?" Hanna asked gently, trying to be comforting too.

"Han, does it matter?" Aria scolded lightly.

"Around forty eight hours are missing from my memory," Spencer admitted.

All the girls fell silent at her admission. There was nothing they could say to help and, just like it had with Toby, it weighed them down, made them feel like failures.

"I'm so sorry, Spence," Aria finally whispered.

"Not your fault," She swallowed hard.

Emily squeezed her hand again. "It could still come back. People block out traumatic events all the time and they come back." She was always the naive optimist. In spite of everything, Spencer loved that about her. Just like she loved that about Toby.

"Could you guys," Spencer's eyes fell back down to her lap, feeling self conscious. "Could you maybe, just try, to fill in the gaps? Please?"

There was a long pause, not one of the girls meeting eye contact. "Are we allowed to?" Aria asked, quietly.

Emily and Hanna both had the same unsure look on their faces. "Did your doctors-"

"Please," Spencer cut off before they could even finish. "Please, you guys. I have a missing gap in my memory and no one to fill it. Please. I hate begging-I never beg-but I feel like I'm drowning without a life jacket here. Please-"

"Okay," The blonde finally answered. "But if we get our asses kicked by the doctors-"

"Or your parents-" Aria chimed in.

"Or Toby," Emily mumbled.

"Then I'm holding you accountable," Hanna warned before pausing again, taking a moment to look at the two other girls first before starting. "We don't know everything that you did. We just know what we were there for."

"That's fine," Spencer waved off quickly. "Just fill in whatever you can."

"We all met together at Ali's. The day before you were taken," Emily started. "She wanted to celebrate her release from psychiatric care and -A being gone."

"Or so we thought," Aria noted quietly.

"Me and Caleb were already there when you arrived," Hanna noted now, her voice quiet and serious. She was unable to look her friend in the eye, the elephant reappearing between them. "We weren't on speaking terms. . . But you knew that."

Aria gnawed on her lip for a second. "You weren't happy with Hanna or Caleb. You were downright angry."

"Like a tornado," The blonde added, suddenly blunt.

Spencer chuckled slightly but waited for them to continue. "You asked Hanna where Jordan was," Emily smiled slightly.

The brunette absorbed that. "Even though I clearly knew you were there with Caleb," She figured, looking at Hanna for confirmation. "I was baiting you into an argument."

"You were hurt," Aria defended softly. "Hurt people lash out. Han wasn't exactly innocent either. She decided to rub it in your face that she was there was Caleb."

"Okay," Hanna held up her hand. "Neither one of us acted great. That's not news."

"Caleb wasn't exactly much help. He pretty much ran away when you guys started taking swipes at each other," Emily added, rolling her eyes.

For some reason that made Spencer smile sardonically. "He did?"

"Yup. You called him out on it. Or actually," Aria fought a grin now. "You called _Hanna_ out on it."

"For the record," Hanna held up her hands. "I was pissed at him for ditching too. I just wasn't gonna admit it."

"What did I say?" The mocha eyed girl asked, cautiously.

"You mocked me for being there with a coward," The fair haired girl answered simply, shrugging it off before her face contorted with shame. "And I mocked you for being there alone."

Emily took over. "I sent Hanna to help Ali in the kitchen and then I tried to take you home."

"So you two were our peacemakers," Spencer looked at Emily and Aria.

"Pretty much," The smallest one of the group confirmed.

Emily continued. "You weren't in a great mood that night. You bit my head off when I asked to drive you home."

"I'm sorry-" Spencer started to apologize before the tan girl squeezed her hand.

"I understood. I told you that then. Of course, why would you want to see two people who hurt you," She trailed off, looking to Hanna on the opposite side of the bed. "Sorry, Han. I got your side too-"

"Yeah, Em, it's fine. Move on," The impatient blonde snapped her fingers. "Before it's time for Spencer's sleepy drugs."

The brunette kicked Hanna through the hospital blankets but she didn't seem to notice, waiting for Emily to continue.

"Uh, I said I knew it must be hard to see Hanna and Caleb together after everything but you said, really defiantly that you weren't hurting over Caleb."

Spencer idly acknowledged to herself that she really wasn't hurting over Caleb. It was a combination of things that factored into it. Caleb betraying her may have stung, but it was the Hanna factor that was the kicker.

"And then I said it'd be natural for you to be hurt," Emily added before trailing off.

"What?" Spencer noticed all the girls had gotten quiet. "This is the part you guys didn't want to tell me," She grasped quietly. "What is it?"

"It's nothing bad," Emily assured quickly, seeing her expression growing more and more scared. "You just. . . said some things that were. . . bold."

"Bold?" Hanna laughed. "I think you mean _ballsy_. I mean, I didn't know you were that-"

"What did I say?" Spencer demanded, her voice raising an octave.

"You're scaring her, you guys," Aria exclaimed.

"Then you tell her," Hanna pushed. "It's your turn, anyway."

The short girl sighed deeply. "Em said 'It'd be totally natural for it to hurt to see them together' and then you just, kind of blurted out, 'I lost Toby.'"

That caught Spencer off guard. "What?"

"You said, you would give up anything to fix things with him," Hanna added, almost enthusiastic to speak now that Aria got the difficult part over with.

"I said what?" Spencer exclaimed, her eyes wide as saucers. It sounded like they were making this up. "Exact words, please," She commanded.

Aria had it ready and loaded. "You said, 'I would give up everything to go back in time and fix my relationship with him. I loved him more than I will ever love anything, in this life and I managed to let him go. Losing Caleb is nothing in comparison to that.'"

Spencer just stared at her for almost a full minute before rubbing her temple, avoiding the large gash on her forehead. "I'm such an idiot," She mumbled, humiliated.

"At least this explains why Toby was right by your bed when you woke up," Hanna stated brightly.

Spencer narrowed her eyes at her friend. "What? What're you talking about? Did you guys run and repeat this to him?" Then something else occurred to her. "Hanna, if you weren't even in the same room, how'd you find out what I said?"

All three girls, once again, looked at each other silently, before speaking. "Everyone kind of . . . heard you," Aria explained sheepishly.

"What do you mean everyone heard me?"

"Means you sort of turned around," Emily added slowly, "And Hanna and Ali and Caleb and," She hesitated and winced before saying exactly what Spencer was silently begging not to hear, "And Toby, were all behind you."

Spencer shut her eyes for a second. "Toby heard me confess my love for him? Publicly?" She swallowed harshly, her voice quiet, feeling her face growing pale and her palms beginning to sweat. "And I've let him stay with me for days, unknowingly-"

"Hey," Hanna put a hand on Spencer's arm. "At least now it makes sense, right? Why he has been vigil by your bedside?"

"It's Virgil, Hanna," Aria corrected under her breath.

"Whatever!" The blonde rolled her eyes. "Now you know why he's been here every day with you."

"Because he feels sorry for the pathetic girl, who is still in love with him and is now bedridden," Spencer snapped.

"Spence!" Emily exclaimed, shaking her head rapidly. "No! He's here because he's still in love with you too and knows you feel the same way!"

"Or he just feels bad for me-" Spencer started to counter.

"Spencer, come on," Aria tried to argue.

"What was his reaction," Spencer pressed, knowingly, "when he heard what I said?"

"He ran out," Aria admitted uneasily.

"See-"

"It's Toby!" Hanna threw her hands up, her eyes growing wide. "He runs out with any heightened emotion."

"He also has a huge heart," Spencer insisted. "He'd come to the hospital no matter if he still loved me or not."

"If he just feels bad for you, Spencer, he wouldn't have come to your house the next morning to talk to you, with massive bouquet of flowers," Hanna fiercely countered, her words stunning Spencer into silence. "He wouldn't have been frantic trying to find you. He wouldn't have been the first to put together -A is still here and he wouldn't have ran and told the cops and your parents about -A without our permission."

Spencer processed this. "He did?"

"Yes," Hanna whispered, smiling at her friend gently.

"He did," Emily confirmed, taking Spencer's hand again. "He loves you, Spence, so much. Trust me."

Spencer swallowed hard on the lump that'd built up in her throat. "What happened after he told about -A?"

"The cops located the building -A took you to. We don't even know how. We were searching for you ourselves but, for the first time, the cops were the ones that found you first."

At their silence, "Then?" She prompted.

"We thought you were dead," Aria admitted faintly, crossing her arms as if to block the memory from getting in.

Spencer didn't miss the way both Hanna and Emily squeezed her hands tighter and couldn't look her in the eye. "Guys," She found herself speechless. "I'm so sorry."

"Why?" Hanna laughed but it was a choked up noise, caught in her throat. "It wasn't your fault."

"Still," Spencer said, looking down, before coming to the conclusion there's nothing she could say. "What happened after that?"

Aria took a deep breath, having to collect herself, before speaking again. "The cops didn't even try going in," She rolled her eyes, a disdain for the Rosewood police a feeling they all shared. "I think they were afraid it was a hostage situation or something. They were calling for backup, when Toby showed up at the site."

"Toby?"

Hanna couldn't resist taking over once again. "He literally defied all his boss' orders and just ran inside. He could have literally died and he went in anyway," She smirked at Spencer, despite the fact she still had tears in her watery blue eyes. "Would he do that for someone he didn't love?"

"Someone he didn't love more than his own life, clearly," Emily corrected.

"Wait," Spencer held up her hand, pulling it out of Hanna's. "Toby is who rescued me?"

Aria smiled thoughtfully. "Yes, he is."

"Why wouldn't he tell me?"

Emily couldn't suppress her grin now either. "Is it really a shock that he wouldn't take credit?"

Spencer sighed now. "No, I guess not."

Hanna evidently wanted to finish the story. "He carried you out and held your hand as they loaded you into the ambulance-"

"Hanna," Aria nudged her. "I think we're overwhelming her."

"No, it's fine," Spencer shook her head. "I want to know as much as possible."

The truth was, she was extremely overwhelmed, but the time to process would be later. No one was blunter than Hanna. No one else would give her the same uncensored version of the truth.

"He came to the hospital with us, but your parents came and took him. They made the hospital qualify him as family-"

"I didn't even think that was possible," Aria murmured.

"It's the Hastings," Hanna shot back, as if the last name was an explanation.

"He hasn't left you since," Emily added, as an end-note. "He's been here twenty four, seven."

"Seriously," Hanna nodded adamantly, wrinkling her nose. "I think he uses your hospital shower."

"Hanna," Emily rolled her eyes.

"Anyway," Aria segued. "We weren't allowed to see you until today. Your parents said you needed your rest."

Spencer laughed tiredly, scrubbing her hand over her face, noting in the back of her mind how strange it felt to rub the cuts, feel them with the skin on her hands but not feel her hands on her face. "All I've really done since waking up is have meltdown after meltdown and sleep."

"Spence," Aria moved closer to her, coming to sit in front of Emily, forcing the taller friend to scoot back or else have the girl in her lap. "You've been through so much in the past few days. You're entitled to meltdowns."

"She's too hard on herself," Another voice said dryly, joining the girls without prologue

Spencer rolled her eyes at her sandy haired boyfriend. But she didn't bother fighting her beaming smile. "It took you this long to find my parents and the cops?" She asked dryly. "You're not a very good detective."

"I'm a sergeant, babe," He edged by the blonde to kiss his girlfriend's forehead. "And I went and got something to eat while you guys talked."

"So you missed our conversation?" She raised an eyebrow, on the surface teasing but someone who knew her as well as Toby did could see something brewing beneath the surface.

"Yeah?" He said slowly, looking to the other girls, suddenly not understanding her hidden meaning. "I caught the part where you put yourself down."

The chestnut haired girl just nodded, attempting to keep her face somber but there was an unparalleled amount of love in her eyes that she could not conceal. He saw it, even without understanding the context around it at all.

He took a seat in his usual chair. Aria scooted off the bed to not block his view. "Did you ever find my parents?"

He nodded, pulling out a rainbow bagel from the paper bag he was carrying. He offered it to her. "You need to eat," He reminded her gently.

"I'm not hungry," She quietly stated, stubbornly.

"You've barely touched anything," He challenged, working to keep his voice even.

"You are thinner, Spence," Hanna agreed.

"You have to eat if you ever plan on leaving this place," Emily threw in.

"And if you don't eat that rainbow bagel, I will," Hanna's mouth was practically watering.

"Where did you even find a rainbow bagel?" Aria asked the young cop.

"There's a shop a down the street," Emily waved off, refocusing on Spencer. "Come on, we're worried about you."

Spencer groaned, grabbing the bagel from his hand and biting a chunk out of it. "Why are you guys so concerned with me eating?" She grumbled, talking in a completely uncharacteristic way with her mouth completely full.

All four of them sighed. "We're just worried about you in general," Aria finally answered after a minute, before repeating her words from earlier. "We just want you to be okay."

"Well if you need something to worry about, the cops have me pinned as the prime suspect in this case."

All the girls looked like they'd been told the sky was really orange. " _What_?"

Spencer looked at her boyfriend. "It's true," He nodded, looking like he wanted to bury his face in his hands. She understood his frustration. He'd always gone out of his way to do whatever it took to protect her and somehow, they both still ended up powerless to demons greater than them. The news that he'd blindly ran into a building full of dead bodies just to save her only proved this further. "They think Spencer was in on it and we're covering by saying -A came back."

"Are they retarded?"

"Hanna!" Emily and Aria both gasped simultaneously.

"I'm sorry, but like you're not all thinking it," She defended.

Spencer gave her blonde friend a half smile, her candor actually refreshing. "I don't know how to prove I'm innocent," She stated softly, looking down at her blankets. "I don't know what to do, you guys."

She felt Toby grasp the hand that wasn't still holding the bagel. "We'll figure it out," He vowed, rubbing the top of her hand with his thumb.

"We will," Emily swore, her eyes wide like they always got when she wanted to be reassuring. "Whatever it takes."

But Spencer couldn't be comforted that easily. "All we have is my word and a missing memory. We can't prove anything."

"Don't worry about that," Veronica said fiercely, as she entered the room. Clearly, by her tone, she was still heated from the confrontation with Tanner and Lorenzo. "The Rosewood P.D isn't smart enough to find a real suspect so they have defaulted to you. There's no proof. They can't do anything but hope to scare you enough that you get confused and incriminate yourself. The cops in that precinct don't have the brains of a farm animal-" She glanced at twenty-four year old sitting by her daughter. "No offense, Toby."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Non-taken."

Veronica's eyes swept the room awkwardly. "Girls, I think the visiting hours are ending soon."

They weren't but they all got the message. Emily bent down to hug Spencer, still very gently, like she was afraid of hurting her. "We'll figure this out, Spence," The black haired girl promised as she pulled back.

"Yeah," Aria agreed, bending down the take her turn hugging Spencer. "We'll get through this."

"We always do," Hanna smiled down over their tiny friend's shoulder. When it was her turn to embrace the girl in the hospital bed, she murmured again in her ear, "I love you, Spence."

"I love you too, Hanna Banana."

After they'd shuffled out, followed by her mother who went to go talk to Ashley Marin out in the lobby, Spencer turned to Toby. "That was weird."

His expression morphed into confusion. "What was weird?"

"Them comforting me. Telling me everything would be okay. It's strange."

Toby let out a half strangled laugh. "Why?"

"Because I'm the Mom-Friend," She replied simply, like this was something she'd already explain before.

He let out a real laugh this time. "Mom-Friend? Where did you hear that phrase?"

"Hanna," She sighed but laughed along with him, before reaching out to grab his hand again, segueing into a more difficult topic. "I need you to give me an honest answer about something," She said quietly, interlacing their fingers tightly.

He instantly tensed. She felt every muscle go rigid with anticipation of what she was going to ask. "Do you think I could have done this?" She asked timidly. "Do you think I could do what the cops think I did?"

He lurched forward in his chair violently towards her. "No! No, Spence, God, no. You could never hurt anyone. The only person who doesn't know that is you."

"Toby-"

"I can see your heart sometimes. When you're with your friends, your family, sometimes I can even see it with me. You don't know it but it shows in your eyes, in your expressions, the way you talk. I know you, through and through. You always tried to make it invisible but it's too big to stay hidden sometimes. I've never known someone to love with their whole heart, who cares about the people she loves so selflessly, who'd do anything to help someone they loved. Someone with a heart like yours could never do this, Spence. And I promise," He squeezed her hand tighter, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss. "I swear, I will do whatever it takes to find the person who did this to you and prove your innocence. I will do anything it takes to end your nightmare."

With his words, she couldn't help but think of his heroic rescue. He was calling her selfless, yet he's the one who ran into a building where for all he knew a crazy, psychotic murderer was waiting, with no thought to his own well-being.

_Somebody who'll put someone else's needs before their own. And not resent them for it._

But right now, for once in her life, she didn't want all the difficult answers. She wanted to bask in the fact that the person she loved most in this world, the person she'd risk everything for, ran inside a building where they very well could have been killed, just to save her. Insecure voices may ring in her head a lot of reasons he shouldn't or couldn't still love her, but even she couldn't deny the fact after what he did.

Wordlessly, she tugged him closer, until he was sitting on the side of her bed, facing her, so close their eyelashes were almost touching. "Thank you, Toby," He voice was no more than a raspy whisper.

"For what?" He whispered, almost into her mouth.

"Everything."


	6. Chapter Six

"Ugh," Spencer groaned, pushing away one of the dozen magazines her mom had piled on the bed.

"What's wrong, honey?" Veronica asked, glancing up from her Blackberry.

"Nothing," The twenty three year old said, her voice nearly inaudible.

She didn't want to be a baby, she didn't want to keep complaining and she didn't want to keep making everyone around her miserable. But she also didn't want to be stuck inside the hospital one second longer.

The pale walls and lights were beginning to hurt her eyes. The doctor's voice was making her ears physically ache every time she heard it. _Even, pacifying, toneless_. The skin on her back nearly stung at the feeling of the rough, papery sheets covering the thin mattress and the blankets over her barely kept her warm. The only blanket that didn't make her skin writhe was the one Toby had brought her himself.

She thought her parents would have gotten the message the night before when she climbed into Toby's chair with him and didn't move when the night nurse told her to get some sleep, instead curling up further into his lap. Sometime in the night, the cop must have lifted her back into the uncomfortable bed because when she woke up, she was tucked in tight, with wires and needles reattached.

She had woken up in a sour mood, tempted to scream before her eyes were even all the way open. She'd complained non-stop already to both nurses that had checked on her. They had smiled politely and nodded, as she told them the water tasted awful, she was constantly cold, she was caffeine deprived, the lights needed to be dimmed, their shoes were too loud. After she had finished her rants though, their eyes had traveled not-so-subtly to her mom, as if Spencer was a grumpy child and they didn't know exactly what to do with her.

Spencer expected her mom to have something to say about her unpleasant mood, scold her in some way, hush her to be polite and not cause a scene, the way she'd been raised. Instead though, her mom feigned oblivion almost, as if she couldn't tell her daughter was an irate, disgraceful mess. She had sat by her bedside-granted on her phone, texting or making calls nearly every few minutes-and listened to every complaint without shutting her down.

"Sweetie," Veronica said gently, running her hand down her arm, being careful not to touch the wires and needles. "I know it's difficult right now. Trust me, I know." Spencer didn't understand how her mom could really empathize but she kept her mouth shut this time. "But we're going to get through this," She promised. "We're going to get you through this." Spencer noticed then that her mom's eyes went to Toby when she said _we_ , instead of her father or sister who were both loitering on the far side of the room.

At least her mom was being realistic.

The mahogany haired girl squeezed Toby's hand without even looking at him. He, too, had witnessed her poor demeanor all day and though she knew he of all people would understand _why_ she was so heated and so aggravated, she suddenly felt ashamed to look him in the eye.

At her lack of response, the senator ran her fingers through her daughter's messy hair, smoothing it behind her ear before rubbing her cheek with the back of her hand and suddenly, it hit Spencer why her mother's treatment felt so foreign yet so familiar, surprising and still not surprising at all.

She was treating Spencer the way she'd always treated Melissa.

The carefulness, the softer voice, the small smiles and soothing gestures. It dawned on the twenty-three year old her mother was either afraid of her or afraid of _breaking_ her. Neither seemed like a good option and she wished she had never had the thought at all.

Turning away from the older woman, she rolled onto her opposite side to face Toby. "I want these things removed so I can sit with you again," She whispered in a raspy tone, gesturing to the needles.

His eyes had that familiar ache, one she'd seen every time she was in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. "I'm sorry, Spence."

She shook her head, smiling diminutively. "Not your fault."

Instead of responding verbally, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead softly, letting his lips linger there for a long time before kissing the same place again.

"How are we doing today?" A brighter voice asked, entering into the room and Spencer rolled her eyes both outwardly and inwardly as Dr. Barnes waltzed into her line of vision.

"Fine," She murmured quietly, scratching her forehead, not even bothering to try to sound enthusiastic. She swore she saw her dad give her a look but she didn't glance at him twice.

"Honey, don't scratch your cuts," Veronica pulled her hand off her forehead as gently as she could, placing it at her side.

Spencer fought the urge to rip her arm away but didn't want to be labeled as difficult or unstable by her doctor.

Instead she turned the conversation around and voiced a question. "Is there a reason the needles are back and I can feel my face even less than I could yesterday?" She didn't mean for her voice to sound so cross and she saw both her mother and sister bite their lips to stop themselves from reprimanding her.

Dr. Barnes, though, was well-versed in dealing with unhappy patients. "Your boyfriend, Toby, told us last night that you appeared to be pain so we upped your medication intake."

Spencer turned her head slowly to glare at Toby, who was now staring at the ground. He shrugged faintly. "I just didn't want you to be in pain if it can be helped."

She knew she really couldn't be angry with him for tattling when he had spent the night before rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles, just so she could fall asleep. But, nonetheless, she gave an eye-roll in his direction. "Can you at least remove the needles so I can shower?" She worked to make her voice gracious.

Dr. Barnes hesitated. "Maybe tomorrow we can discuss it. For now, Nurse Lee can help you with a sponge bath."

"I don't want a sponge bath," Spencer immediately rejected.

"Spencer," Her mom said gently, brushing back her hair again.

"Just remove them so I can shower," Spencer insisted, her eyes not leaving the doctor's. "Please," She threw in.

"Honey," This time it was her dad speaking. It was probably the second time all morning he'd said anything to her. "It isn't the needles that are the problem, it's the drug dosage. You'd be too dizzy to stand in the shower. You'd fall and get hurt," To his credit, he explained it very calm and soothingly and in a way, it made her feel even worse because now even her father was treating her differently.

Spencer's eyes snapped to Toby and instantly the idea of him showering with her popped into her head. She rejected it the minute it formulated though, not even wanting to imagine what her parents would say to the idea. Sure, she was an adult but that didn't mean she wanted to tell them their youngest would like to shower with her boyfriend.

"Probably best I don't see my own reflection again anyway," She conceded quietly after a minute, looking down at her lap.

She heard Toby let out a sigh and knew her words had hit him hard. She forgot sometimes, when she was so absorbed in her own head, that it killed him to see her in visible pain.

Her mom shook her head, rejecting Spencer's statement as well. "There is nothing wrong with you reflection. Absolutely nothing."

Wishing again that she hadn't even brought up this conversation, she moved into a new topic without a segue. "When do you think I can get out of here?"

Clearly Dr. Barnes expected this particular question. "We'll have to wait a little longer to see. Whenever we can draw back on your meds and maybe after you heal a bit more."

"But my injuries are all surface wounds," Spencer argued, her voice growing defensive and frustrated. She swallowed hard on the lump building up in her throat and wished desperately she could just fall back asleep and wake up again, not in an awful mood. She felt like a trigger, already halfway pulled. Anything could set her off.

"But you also have a concussion," The doctor pointed out, his voice even and mollifying.

"But I'm not living alone. Can't someone check on me?" She looked between both her parents, her head snapping back and forth so fast it made her a little dizzy, which was defeating her point.

Both Veronica and Peter looked sheepishly away and instantly Spencer felt rejection build up inside her stomach and make the lump, already budding in her throat, turn into a ball.

She didn't say another word, knowing if she did she might cry and that was the last thing she wanted right now. To cry in a room full of family was her idea of a humiliating experience. She forced herself to hold it back, until it was just her and Toby.

He saw the entire spectrum of emotions play out on her face and couldn't stop himself from moving closer to sit on the edge of her bed. She didn't meet eye contact as he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. He was unable to _not_ comfort her when he saw her hurting.

She loved him for it but part of her wished he didn't always want to make her better. His kiss was followed by a tear sliding down her cheek and she, too ashamed of the salt water, pretended not to notice.

"Can we have a few minutes?" Veronica asked Dr. Barnes over her shoulder, angling her body more towards her daughter.

"Yes, of course," He cleared his throat awkwardly as Peter and Melissa both got up to walk him out, the lawyer already speaking in a hushed voice before he was even out the door.

"Sweetie," Her mom said quietly. "It's not that we don't want you home, we just don't want to rush it before you're ready."

Spencer couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes now. "I can survive without these extreme pain killers, mom. All they're doing is drugging me up and exhausting me." She worked to keep her voice quiet and calm, knowing she would have a better chance of reasoning with her mother that way. As a result though, her voice was also void of all emotion and she wondered if it made her seem like a resentful teenager who didn't get her way.

"Spencer-"

She took a quick breath and spit more words out before she could really process them, aware of how desperate and unstable she must look. "Please talk to the doctor and get him to release me. I swear, I'll be okay. I _really_ don't need to be here anymore." She begged, forgetting her own private rule to never ask for anything, never beg, never look pathetic to anyone.

She knew if her mom really wanted her released, she would get the doctors to release her.

Her mom didn't say anything else for a long while. She avoided her eyes, but used her hand to push Spencer's bangs back and then run down the length of her hair countless times. She had almost lulled Spencer back into sleep when she finally spoke. "I know being a murder suspect is hard. I know it's weighing down on you. And I appreciate all the hell you're being put through. But I'm not going to try to change the doctor's mind, honey."

Spencer felt her stomach dropped, knowing this was her final answer and, it took everything she had to stop herself from calling out the truth. The reason she knew her parents didn't want her home is they were worried if she couldn't be in tip-top shape, she'd become a burden on them. They knew if she was home, they couldn't allusively slip in and out whenever they pleased. They couldn't justify leaving her to fend for herself, when she was a psychologically fucked up mess but they couldn't be what she needed. It was easier in the hospital, when they both could work from their phones and have medical professionals and heavy sedation on standby when she got too feisty.

She knew it wasn't the fact that her parents didn't love her. It was the fact that neither of them knew truly how to care for her. Neither of them really understood her.

Neither of them ever had truly taken care of her. They'd always been too busy with their own lives and careers and parenting was just never their first priority. And when they did pay attention to one daughter, it was usually Melissa.

She vowed silently, in the back of her mind, that if she ever became a mother, she would never make her child feel the way she felt now. Never allow them to feel insignificant and unimportant and stupid and _terrified_. Terrified of needing help, terrified of being rejected and humiliated, terrified of choking under the pressure of being perfect, terrified of being human, terrified of making a single mistake, terrified of not being enough, terrified that one day they'd hear the words that finally spelt out what they'd known for a lifetime.

_You're too much, too much to handle, too much to take. You suffocate others with your presence. You don't belong in your own family. You're a human disaster. You aren't what you were supposed to be. You're not enough for us. You're not enough for our love._

_You have poisoned the lives of everyone around you._

_We resent you._

On some level, deep down, she wondered if it was true.

"Alright," Spencer finally agreed, slightly leaning away from her mom's reach, before pulling Toby closer to her so his upper body was bent over her's. He went down without a fight, holding her like he could save her from the rest of the world.

He didn't say a word as he kissed the side of her neck then her jaw line then the shell of her ear.

They didn't say much else as Melissa and Peter re-entered the room. Spencer could no longer see her mother's face but she imagined it looked rather distressed by the way her voice rang out, edging on hysterical. "I promise, this won't last forever. You'll get your memory back and the cops will see the truth-"

"How are they going to believe me when it's obvious you don't?" Spencer asked, her voice quiet and dejected. Toby stiffened against her, unprepared for her to call out her mother so directly.

The young lobbyist gently pushed against Toby's chest, getting him to sit upright just in time for her to catch the looks exchanged between her parents.

The senator's head snapped back in Spencer's direction, making quick eye contact. "Honey, of course, I believe you," She exclaimed. To any outsider-maybe even Toby-she appeared appalled that her daughter would think otherwise. But to Spencer, and even Melissa, it was blatantly obvious that the woman was appalled Spencer had caught onto the fact that she believed her daughter guilty.

"No, you don't," Spencer's voice was still small but it held a confident edge. The anger laced there was unmistakable. "Neither one of you believe I'm completely innocent," She looked between her parents accusingly.

"Yes, Spencer, we do!" Veronica insisted.

Her mom's denial held no merit though, when her father's expression was a dead giveaway.

Her parents thought the cops were right.

She supposed she should appreciate that right or wrong, guilty or not, her parents both intended to protect her from the repercussions of what they thought she did. But the idea that they even saw her as capable stung too badly for her to really appreciate anything about either of them right now.

Or maybe it scared her that they saw her as capable because deep down, she'd always wondered herself. Was she capable of such a thing? She'd been put inside this mindset too many times before, forced to see herself as a monster, to give herself an answer.

She squeezed Toby hand tightly inside her own, knowing he may be the only person who would never see her as anything but the girl he loved. Even when loving her made no sense. Even when it seemed to cost him more than he had to give, he never stopped giving her his endless support. He never stopped believing the best in her. He never lowered his opinion of her, no matter how many times she revealed to him another bloody scar or scabbed-over wound.

He was the one safe place, the strong shelter, in her life inside a glass house.

Her family was a glass house. One footstep too harsh and the entire thing shattered to pieces.

A voice she hadn't heard yet pulled her out of her own head. "Spence, does it really matter?"

Four heads snapped in the direction of Melissa Hastings' voice. "What?" Spencer gaped at her, her eyebrows knotting together. Her rocky history with her deceitful sister forced her to be an edge every time Melissa spoke.

"Does it honestly matter if mom and dad believe you?" The older brunette repeated. "Does it even matter if the cops believe you? You know you didn't do this. Why should anyone else's doubts matter?"

A beat of silence surrounded the room as no one knew what to say in response to the elder daughter. "Where is this coming from?" Spencer finally rasped out, blinking hard at her sister.

Melissa's face contorted with confusion but it lacked the usual cunning edge and the younger sister wondered for a second why she looked so unfamiliar. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, since when do you try to make me feel better? All you've ever done is make things worse for me."

"Spencer!" Both Veronica and Peter berated at the same time. Their eyes snapped to their firstborn, worrying that she had been offended.

A wave of familiarity swept over Spencer and she couldn't even tell if it was positive or negative emotions. They were scolding her, rebuking her, in defense of Melissa. To protect Melissa and her feelings.

They'd never do that for her.

But part of her felt pleased, as this was the most normal her parents had been since her admission to the hospital.

The irony wasn't lost on Spencer that the first time they did something familiar was when they were favoring their oldest.

A line from a book she'd read during her sophomore year suddenly popped into her head.

 _A child weaned on poison will always consider harm a comfort_.

"Spencer," Veronica took a deep breath, attempting to unclench her teeth and started again. "Let's try to keep ourselves in check-"

"In check?" Spencer snapped defensively. "I'm lying in the hospital where I'm stuck until one of those geniuses decides I'm all better, I have no memory of how I got here, and the cops think I killed a bunch of people. I'm sorry that I'm not the most rational, mom, but I'm not in the most pleasant mood right now."

Veronica, Peter and Melissa's mouth all hung open. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Toby didn't look stunned in the least. His lips were pursed and his eyes were downcast but he didn't look taken aback at all.

Somehow he knew this was coming.

"Don't be difficult, Spencer," Veronica sighed, irritated.

Toby eyes snapped up at the senator, defensive now.

"I'm sorry, I'm so difficult, but how exactly would you feel in my place?" Spencer shot back. She opened her mouth to say more but before she could conjure up the words, she felt her boyfriend's hand push her hair back gently and instantly, the anger faded from deep within her chest and vanished as her eyes met Toby's soft, compassionate ones, evaporating the vinegar she had ready to spew out and in its place came embarrassment. "I want you to leave," Spencer repeated the words she'd uttered to her father days ago.

Hurt blazed into her mother's eyes. "What?"

"I want you to get out of my room, okay. I can't deal with this right now." Just from her tone, her family could hear she was on the verge of completely losing it. "Just give me space, please."

"I'm not going anywhere, Spencer," Veronica stated firmly.

"I don't-" Before Spencer could even finish her sentence, she was interrupted by a loud groan from her right.

All eyes snapped to Toby. His head was downcast completely now and he was pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Is something wrong, Toby?" Peter asked harshly. It was clear what answer he expected.

"You are not helping," The cop stated, simply and quietly, but his voice wasn't kind either.

"Well, it's not-"

"Maybe he's right," Veronica cut off her husband's rebuttal, her demeanor changed completely with Toby's words. "Maybe we could all use some time to cool off."

Peter looked at his wife, at loss for words. "Veronica," He spoke her name like a question.

"Come on," She directed, to her husband and older daughter. "We'll be back in a bit, Spence."

Spencer and Toby both watched as her family shuffled out of the room. "That was my fault, wasn't it?" Spencer asked as soon as they were out of earshot. He gave her a puzzled look.

"What?"

"That fight. I started it. I'm acting like a bitch."

"You are not acting like a bitch," Toby disagreed adamantly. "You're under extremely traumatic circumstances."

Spencer chuckled humorlessly. "Traumatic? There's a word I never wanted to hear again."

"I'm serious, Spence. Cut yourself some slack."

She let out a breath and looked down at her wired hand for a beat. "I'm just so tired of being their problem child. But the more I don't want to be difficult, the more difficult I become."

Toby didn't respond right away. His silence started to make her feel even worse, that maybe he agreed that she was the one causing the issues, that he was starting to see her parents' side clearer than her's, see her as the problem.

But before she could divulge too deep in her insecurities and fears, she felt her sheets being pulled back and the cool air hit her exposed legs. Toby slide his body in next to hers, already having his shoes kicked off.

"You are not difficult, Spencer Hastings," He whispered firmly into her hair before planting his lips there, wrapping both his arms around her tightly. She rolled closer to him, hitching her leg over both his and laid her head on his chest. "You are strong and resilient and brilliant and compassionate. Just because your family doesn't bring out the best in you doesn't change who you are."

She sighed but his words pierced her thick, sometimes self loathing skull and sunk into her brain. Still, she didn't feel her mood improve in the least, despite the fact her boyfriend was trying his best to make her feel better. "I just really want to wake up and find out this was all a bad dream," She whispered raucously.

"I know, baby," His hand slipped down her back, rubbing her skin with his fingertips. He repeated her mom's earlier sentiment, knowing she was ready to hear it now. "I know these last few days have been absolute hell. But I promise, it will not last forever. You _will_ get out of this hospital, and I will do anything in my power to help you move on." At his words he felt her chest move up and down against his. It took him a second to realize she wasn't crying. "Why are you laughing?"

She smiled up at him, but it was a desolate smile, the kind that made his chest hurt to look at. "I didn't mean I wished the last week was a dream. I wish the last three years were a dream."

"Three years?"

She continued, almost seeming to fall into a trance. "I wish I could just wake inside my dorm room and fix our relationship before we let it completely fall apart. I wish I never went to Europe and never became a lobbyist and never came back to Rosewood and never lied for Ali and just let Cece stay locked up forever and never got with Caleb." He stayed silent through her tirade, his hand still rubbing her back. At her pause, his mouth opened to speak but she wasn't done. "And I wish you never met Yvonne."

At that, he swallowed his words.

* * *

A loud knock on the door pulled Spencer out of her own head, where she was counting the dots on the white, white ceiling. "Who is it?" She called, unable to get out of bed and see for herself.

"It's me, Spence," Melissa's voice rang out as she opened the door and let herself in. "I forgot my bag."

"Oh," Spencer bit her lip, unsure what to say after her earlier behavior. Her sister broke the silent tension. Walking over to the bed, she set a coffee down in front of the hospitalized girl. "Thank you," Spencer smiled, small and self-conscious.

Melissa looked around, as if noticing the cop's absence for the first time. "Where's Toby?"

"Showering," She replied, guzzling down a huge drink.

The older sister chuckled, slightly uncomfortable. "You mean, he left your side?"

"I made him," Spencer laughed awkwardly as well, looking at her lap. "I told him I'd be fine for the ten minutes it takes him to shower."

Melissa gave her a dubious look. "I'm shocked he listened to you. He's been practically soldered to your bed since he pulled you out of that building."

The reminder of what Toby did warmed her heart but she was shocked by how casually her sister stated it, like it was something she expected Spencer to know.

Of course, she did know, but she hadn't gotten around to informing anyone else of that.

Evidently their parents hadn't kept Melissa up to date on what they thought Spencer could handle and what they felt needed to be kept away from her.

"I need to stop being so dependent on him," Spencer finally confided, sipping more of her coffee. Melissa pursed her lips but didn't say anything else. After less than a minute of silence, she moved to stand up. "Wait!" Spencer called, grabbing her arm. The elder sister looked down at her in shock. The hospitalized girl fumbled with her words, still trying to articulate what she wanted to convey. "Can you stay for a while?"

Melissa looked at the door to the connecting bathroom where Toby was still showering. "Are you afraid to be alone?" She asked, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed once again.

Spencer balked at the question, unsure how to answer. The truth was yes, she was petrified to be alone. But that's not why she asked her sister to stay. "I wanted to talk to you."

Melissa raised an eyebrow. The sisters were never the kind that really talked. They threatened each other. They lied for each other. They protected the other's secrets. But they didn't _talk_.

Spencer took a deep breath before speaking, forcing the words out no matter how uncomfortable she felt. "Do you really think I'm innocent?"

Melissa looked surprised at the inquiry. "Yes," She said with conviction.

"I don't think mom and dad really do," Spencer admitted.

Melissa was completely silent for a minute, her gaze falling down. "Neither do I."

Spencer sighed, looking at her blankets as well. "What do they think I did?" She asked, almost inaudible, unsure she even wanted the answer.

"I don't know," Melissa matched her tone. "I don't even think they know, to be honest. But they think it's the reason you blacked out."

"They told you this?"

The elder sister shook her head. "No. But I can tell, Spence."

Spencer nodded slowly, processing and accepting this. "So can I." She knew all this but a small part of her hoped to be wrong. Finding out she was right didn't vindicate her. It made her gut ache, like a harsh kick in the stomach. She craved Toby's presence once again but pushed the feeling to the back of her brain. She would be damned if she let herself grow so desperately dependent on anyone, even Toby Cavanaugh, ever again.

If she could help it.

"I'm sorry," Spencer whispered, finishing the coffee before it could even drop a degree below boiling. Looking Melissa in the eye and apologizing was unsurprisingly difficult. "For biting your head off before-"

Evidently it was difficult to hear as well as Melissa cut off her fumbling. "It's fine," She nodded, a small, tight smile forming on her face.

A tension fell over the sisters but Melissa didn't get up and exit. She stayed by Spencer's side as the clocked ticked minutes on by. The girl in the bed realized that Melissa didn't believe her denial about being afraid to be alone. She thought Spencer needed her there until Toby was done in the shower. The gesture gave Spencer a warm feeling in her chest, as it surprised her despite the fact that unspoken acts were the main way the girls expressed love. Her assumption was validated when she spoke again and Melissa jump, shocked to hear Spencer's voice again.

"Melissa?"

"Yeah?"

She took a deep breath, stretching the muscles in her knotted up gut. "How can you be so sure?"

The usually manipulative sister's eyes widened. "That you didn't kill anyone?" At her quick, slightly abash nod, "I just know. I just know _you_."

_Good, because sometimes I feel like I barely know you._

_Sometimes I feel like I barely know myself._

The truth is, Spencer needed to hear someone, anyone, say out loud to her, that she wasn't capable of a crime this heinous. Toby didn't see her clearly enough to be objective and she couldn't wait for her friends to come back, as God knows what her parents were saying that might keep them away. _She's tired, she's having a bad day, she isn't herself._ As if any of those things were going to improve anytime in the near future, especially since they were insistent about her remaining in the hospital.

"But how can you be so certain?" Spencer's croaked out, her voice caught in her throat, terrified of vocalizing the question in the chance Melissa may turn, like the wildcard she'd proven time and time again to be, and say she changed her mind, Spencer was capable of these atrocious actions.

A normal person could easily be the judge of their own character. Someone who hadn't been through the complete and utter hell Spencer had. But with everything that had happened to her, she'd been forced down this road too many times to see herself clearly anymore.

Somewhere along the way, she'd started seeing herself as someone else, someone apart from the brilliant, smiling beauty she personified in public. Words like _loose cannon_ , _violent_ , _bulldozer_ , _crazy_ , _traumatized_ , all became descriptions for her.

Somewhere along the way, she'd began to accept the labels slapped onto her.

Between her addiction, relapses and mental health highs and lows, it was impossible not to.

The voice of her big sister snapped her out of her self-deprecating thoughts.

"It's just not in you, Spence, to hurt anyone like that. Not if you had any alternative."

The younger girl's eyes fell down onto her lap. "I wish I had the same confidence in myself," She mumbled, touched more than she could express that Melissa would say that. For all her faults and every poor trait she inhabited, Melissa did love her. That much she was sure of.

Her sister's greatest act of love popped to the forefront of Spencer's mind instantly and suddenly, words that refused to come before were practically dripping off her tongue.

"You'll get that confidence eventually," The elder sister smiled, a clear attempt at being reassuring. She raised her hand for a second as if to touch the twenty three year old's arm but instead dropped it and gracefully scooted herself off the bed. "Give it time, Spencer. Right now, you just have to believe that you are not capable of this," She assured again as she made her way towards the door.

Spencer swallowed hard, before opening her mouth just as Melissa pulled the door open to leave. "How can I believe that though, when I know for a fact that it is in me to hurt someone?"

Melissa froze before pivoting around to face her sister again. "What're you talking about?" Spencer detected a sudden defensive edge in her older sister's voice.

"Do you remember the night you came into my room and said me and you were too much alike? And that was our biggest problem?" Spencer asked, her voice calm and introspective, but now she maintained eye contact with her elder sister, unflinchingly.

"Yes?"

"At the time, I really didn't want to admit it… But it was true-"

"Spencer," Melissa interrupted, closing the gap by walking back over to her bedside. "Where are you going with this?"

"We are alike, Melissa!" Spencer exclaimed, her eyes widening. "Okay, forget our constant need to please everyone, our need to be perfect, our competitive streaks, our similar taste in men, everything. You buried Bethany Young! H-how can you be so sure I'm not capable of hurting anyone when you-"

"Spencer, that was different," Melissa snapped fiercely, sitting on the bed now none too gentle.

"You buried her because you thought I whacked her with a shovel! How far off is what everyone thinks I did now compared to that?" Spencer took a deep breath again before adding, "And… me and you share blood. Maybe it's not that unlikely that I… if you did-"

"Spence," Melissa groaned, scrubbing her hand across her face, something she rarely did. A long silence fell over the sisters once again, as Spencer had nothing else to add and Melissa appeared to be processing the whole thing. Finally she spoke, her voice resolved. "I love you," She whispered, the words an explanation. "The way in which me and you are alike is that we would do anything to protect the people we love. We are not and never will be cold blooded killers."

The words eased something inside Spencer's brain. It was faint but enough that she felt a wave of gratitude towards her sister.

She reached out and grasped Melissa's hand in her's. A minuscule smile played on Spencer's mouth. A small thank you.

_Thank you for being my sister, even when sometimes I hate you._

_Thank you for protecting me, no matter how messed up our relationship is at times._

_Thank you for talking to me like a person and not a glass vase._

No words were needed to be said out loud as they were both exhausted, emotionally and physically.

But the older daughter gave her hand a squeeze and Spencer knew that Melissa got what she meant.

* * *

Toby appeared only seconds after Melissa's departure. Spencer smirked knowingly at the coincidence. As soon as he was close enough, she reached out and touched his hair, sliding her fingers through it like beach sand. "It's nice how your hair dries so quickly after your shower. Especially such a long one. How long were you in there?"

The twenty-four-year old sergeant rolled his eyes. "I didn't take that long."

She gave him a wry smile. "You just so happen to be done exactly as my sister left?"

He simply returned her smirk, tugging the blankets to her hospital bed back and scooting her thin body over. "I wasn't going to interrupt your conversation with Melissa," He murmured as he climbed into the bed and pulled her to his chest. "You deserve to talk in private."

Spencer snorted, laying her head against his shoulder, wrapping one leg around his hips. "So you weren't eavesdropping? At all?" He bypassed her comment altogether.

"You know, none of what happened could possibly be your fault," He stated quietly, pressing his lips to her hair.

She sighed, shutting her eyes. "I love you for thinking that, Tobes. But you can't possibly know-"

"I know you," He countered. "That all I need to know."

"Toby," She sighed again, digging her nails into his chest absentmindedly. "You're so biased."

He craned his neck back to get a better look at her face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Of course, you think I couldn't have done this. You love me. You see me as a better person than I am. . . I've done a lot to make you think I'm a better person than I really am."

"Baby," He whispered, his eyes growing even softer than before. "What're you talking about? You _are_ a good person."

She couldn't even look him in the eye, afraid of losing it. "No, I'm really not. I've done so many things that you'd never agree with. I'm not like you. I'm not honorable or admirable or decent. It doesn't come naturally to me. It's not who I am," She poured out, like her tongue was on fire and spitting the words out was an extinguisher for the flame. "And how could you really know the kind of person I am? You don't know what I did after I left Rosewood. You don't even know half of what I did after we broke up," She stated, getting slightly lost in her own head.

Toby narrowed his eyes but there was a hint of sarcasm. "What shady business have you engaged yourself in during the last three years?" Spencer bit her lip but didn't answer. "Spence?" He prompted gently, running his fingertips along her face. "What is it?" She looked up at him, her eyes remorseful. He seemed pick up on the message she was trying to convey. "Whatever it is," He said soothingly, "whatever you did, you can tell me. It's _me_."

She shifted her eyes to the ceiling, trying to articulate what she wanted to tell him, despite the fact that she could hear her heart monitor getting louder. "I started taking pills again in college," She finally admitted. "Not like last time." As if that made any difference. "I never let myself get that dependent on them again. But I did take them. A lot of them." She didn't realize her eyes were still glued upwards until she felt Toby's lips on her temple.

Turning her gaze hesitantly to look at him, she almost cried seeing his expression. He didn't look disappointed like she was afraid of. He didn't look mad or frustrated or irritated. He just looked sad. Like this was his fault. Like he had any control over his girlfriend's addiction.

"That's okay, Spence," He finally whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead now. The kiss melted away any defense left inside her and she burrowed further into his arms. "I know an addiction is a non-stop struggle that you constantly have to work at. I get that."

Spencer took a deep breath and then blew it out. "It was more than that," She divulged bravely. "It wasn't just my addiction. That's always there and I've learned to manage that. At least, majority of the time. . . . It was my PTSD I couldn't handle," She finally confessed, swallowing harshly. "It had gotten so bad I couldn't go to class some days, I would just sit on the floor of my dorm and-"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Toby interrupted. "Broken up or not, I don't care. I would have been there. I would have done anything to-"

"I-I didn't want to burden you-"

"You've never been a burden on me and you know it, Spence. How could you think just because we were broken up. . ." He cut himself off. "Wait. Were we broken up when this happened?"

Spencer kept her eyes trained straight ahead, refusing to look up into his oceanic orbs. Her silence was all the answer he needed. She expected him to be upset with her now, as this would bring the total up to three times in their relationship she'd lied to him about her drug use. Instead, though she shouldn't have expected anything less, his tone was desolately contrite. "Why didn't you tell me?" He whispered. His words nearly undid her completely and she brought her hand up to cover her face, ashamed.

"I didn't want to let you down."

His deep sigh made her chest ache in the worst way possible. "Babe," He said softly, tugging her hand away from her face and into his own. "You could never, ever let me down."

"That's such a lie," She immediately countered. "I've let you down so many times."

"No you haven't," He disputed."Yes, you've messed up. But no one's perfect. And do I really need to tell you that I've had more than my share of screw ups too?"

She sighed, his words resonating, somehow managing to finally penetrate her thick skull.

"You don't think I'm a bad person?" She whispered after a beat of silence, her voice gravelly.

"No," He spoke with wholehearted conviction.

She looked up at him then, her teary chocolate irises unguarded. "Are you. . . disappointed in me?"

Toby exhaled a loud breath involuntarily, feeling like her words almost punctured a hole in his heart. "No, baby, no. Of course not," He assured, planting another kiss on the corner of her mouth. "I just wish I'd known," He whispered into her skin.

She blinked away her tears, fighting for composure. "This is what I was talking about though," She murmured hoarsely. Toby pulled back to get a better look at her expression. "I'm a loose cannon. I have a predisposition in my blood to do shady things, just like my family. The shit -A put me through pushed me over the edge. In more ways than I can possibly explain," She swallowed hard again on the lump in her throat that was making it difficult to talk. "The years of stalking, the dollhouse, my PTSD, it changed me."

It was Toby's turn now to scrub his hand over his face. "Spence-"

"Did you know most murderers have a predisposition from birth? And only after they're triggered do they actually kill anyone-"

"That is not you," Toby contested adamantly.

His words did nothing to dissuade her. "I have a darkness in me, Toby! Okay, something in those years hardened inside of me. I'm not sure what I'm capable of and-"

Toby couldn't let her go on. "Spence," He said her name like a caress. "The only thing those years did is prove your strength. They showed everyone that you are a survivor. You survived that and you can and will survive this. You are not crazy, babe. And you don't have a predisposition to do anything evil or vile or cruel."

Spencer calmed, if only slightly. "You're only saying this because you're blind to my faults," She said quietly.

"No, I'm not," His voice remained insistent, as it was apparent to him that he was breaking down her defenses. She was stubborn but she wasn't impossible to talk off the edge.

"Oh really?" She rolled her eyes, running her hand under her nose as her voice grew stronger. "List my faults for me then, please."

Without preamble, he spit out, "You're quick to jump to conclusions, you're headstrong and stubborn and a complete know-it-all. You're competitive as hell-"

"You had this list ready and loaded," She cut it, taken aback by how quickly he could conjure this up.

"You asked for it," He reminded. "You lash out way too quick, you bottle everything up inside until it all explodes out of you, you are the sorest loser I have ever met-"

"That's not true!" She chirped.

"You never did let go of that Scrabble game," He chuckled. "Where was I? You can remember your locker combinations back to the sixth grade but you can never, ever remember to lock the door at night. You spend so much time in the shower, doing absolutely nothing but standing under _scalding_ hot water. You are a kleptomaniac."

"You told me I looked better in your shirts than you do," She shot back, smirking slightly.

He kissed her mouth. "Okay, so I don't mind that fault. But there are faults that bother me to no end."

Spencer made a face. "Such as?"

"You don't see yourself clearly at all. With your family, you think that you're only as valuable as your accolades and your accomplishments. With the girls, you think you're only good enough for them as long as you're useful. If you don't work overtime to figure everything out, you don't see why they'd even want you," He stated evenly. "That is your biggest flaw. You can't see the good that's in you. You don't see the million and ten reasons why you're so amazing."

Spencer had to clear her throat to even begin finding her voice in light of his words. A million things ran through her head but what slipped out was, "I've never told you that. I've never openly told anyone that."

Toby gave her a soft smile, the same one he gave every time she dropped her defenses and said anything particularly vulnerable. "You never had to."

Spencer returned his smile, curving her body even closer to his, their parallel lines so far entwined they could have been mistaken as one, lying in the hospital bed together. "None of that proves anything, though," She whispered hoarsely, her mind jolting back into reality. The origin of their conversation remigrated to the forefront of her mind. No flowery words or loving declarations could change the fact that she could very well be a murderer. "You love me, Tobes. That's all that proves. Your opinion of my character is completely bias."

He didn't miss a beat. "That may be true, I may be bias-"

" _May_ be?"

He took a deep breath, pushing to convince her. He was visibly frustrated with her lack of faith in herself. " _Spencer_ ," He sighed, his tone laced with both affection and exasperation.

"You have no concrete evidence of my innocence here! Okay, no one does-"

"There's no reason to think you did anything wrong!"

"Oh, yeah, because doing illegal activities is really out of my character!"

"There is a zero percent chance you were in any way involved-"

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because if you had anything to do with this, you wouldn't have been lying on the ground of the building, unconscious, covered in blood," He spit out before the words really registered in his brain.

Instantly, he wished he could retract what he just said, backspace, rewind the seconds, swallow the vowels whole. It was fruitless to hope Spencer didn't realize what he'd just confessed as she had gone as motionless as a statue against him.

After a beat, as the words infiltrated into her skull, Spencer spoke, her tone now wry. "Yeah, you would know, babe. Wouldn't you?" She leaned away to get a better look of his expression.

Toby tried to let out the breath he was involuntarily holding but his diaphragm wouldn't let go of it. "Spencer, I-"

She put him out of his misery quick, a smile spreading across her face as his words sunk further in. "I already knew," She admitted sheepishly.

His eyes grew even wider. "You remember waking up in the building?" He asked softly.

She stilled, caught off guard. "No, my friends told me. . . I woke up when you found me?"

His expression smoothed out marginally. "Only for a few seconds," He smoothed her hair back, down her neck and shoulder blades. "Your friends told you?"

Spencer nodded, her gratitude and adoration leaking into her expression as she looked him in the eye and allowed it to hit her all over again, that this man loved her enough to charge into a building with a vicious killer inside, just to find her.

"They said you were the one to save me. Probably the only reason I got out alive." She pushed her face deeper into his chest, closing her eyes and locking her leg tighter around him.

His lips buried themselves in her messy, curly hair, repeatedly kissing it like he was trying to smooth it down.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked simply, every one of her muscles relaxing as she melted completely into his embrace, chest to chest.

His shrug was sleepy and nonchalant, his primary focus being holding her tightly in his arms. Almost as if the thought of her back in that building made him want to hold her closer. His fingertips ran in soft, soothing patterns up and down the contours of her back, dipping inside her underwear band every so often.

"It doesn't matter," He whispered, his already honey-toned voice gaining a softer edge. "All that matters to me is that you did get out alright. However that happened is irrelevant."

"No, it isn't," She disagreed lightly, turning her head to rest her cheek against his shoulder.

"I didn't want to overwhelm you," He added, quiet and desperate, somehow begging for understanding. "And the doctors recommended that you not be told. They thought it could tamper with your memory. They're still pissed at me for telling you anything at all about what happened." When she didn't say anything else, just laid there, cuddled in his arms, he whispered, "Are you mad at me? For waiting so long to tell you?"

His words, which once were her's, tugged at her heart strings viciously. "No, of course not," She assured, kissing him through his shirt. "You saved me. And...and I can never repay you for that."

His arms tightened around her thin frame. "You saved me first. A long, long time ago. Long after I thought I was beyond being saved. You showed me that I wasn't too damaged, that I was capable of being loved and loving someone else. _You_ saved me, Spence."

She smiled against his chest, letting him close their conversation. For a long time, they didn't say another word, both unwilling to ruin their rare moment of serenity. But finally, after just laying together in the hospital bed for a long time, Spencer spoke, segueing a new topic.

"Toby?" She murmured sleepily, pulling back to lean up slightly.

"Yeah?" He asked, startled slightly by her voice.

"I want to go home."


	7. Chapter Seven

Spencer could practically feel a migraine coming on as she listened to the quarrelling right outside her door. Quarrelling she was supposed to be oblivious to, as was the point of not doing it in front of her. Which is a sweet concept in theory, but when all four voices echoed directly into earshot of her bed, the novelty wore off quick.

"She isn't ready," Veronica hissed, attempting to keep her voice down, more for the sake of not drawing attention than for Spencer.

"Why not?" Toby pressed, his voice holding an edge that the Hastings parents were growing more and more familiar with the longer Spencer remained in the hospital.

"She's a complete wreck," Peter exclaimed through gritted teeth, like Toby was threatening to cut his limbs off.

Spencer blanched at her father's words but composed herself almost immediately as the words were exactly what she expected to hear.

Veronica tightly squeezed her husband's arm, a warning to quiet down. "She's falling apart at the seams," The senator reiterated for him. "There is no way she can handle-"

"She can't handle being in this hospital any longer," Toby snapped, his eyes cutting to the doctor's, fighting to keep the desperate urge out of his pale eyes. "Dr. Barnes," He addressed directly, "she's desperate to go home. Okay, she doesn't need the hospital equipment anymore. There is nothing physically wrong with her."

The medical professional raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you the one who told us she was uncomfortable and needed to be given a higher dosage of pain killers?"

"I was being overprotective," Toby admitted without hesitation. "I was being overprotective but I'm sure, she can handle going home. The only reason she's still in the hospital is because of her missing memory and no one knows when that's going to come back."

Spencer's stomach turned at his words, at how offhandedly he stated the fact that everyone knew: her memory of the night in question was gone and there was no telling of when or if it'd ever return.

Despite that though, the brunette was ecstatic that Toby was fighting for her. He was fighting with everything he had to give her what she wanted and she felt her chest ache, for the first time in months, in a good way.

She loved him, she loved him, she loved him.

She rarely felt lucky nowadays and she attempted to bask in the feeling, just as Toby's voice rang out again. "You said yourself, her concussion isn't serious," He pointed out.

"She's still in pain," Peter barked.

"And she is still taking a fairly heavy dose of pain medications," Dr. Barnes reasoned evenly.

Toby took a deep breath and Spencer was proud of him, for how well he was doing. Arguing with three people he wasn't comfortable around, he didn't have a close bond with, who all three probably intimidated the hell out of him, was something that would never be an easy task for Toby. But he was managing somehow. For her.

"She can take pain killers at home," Toby stated coolly.

There was a stretch of silence, one that probably lasted no more than a minute but it felt like an eternity to Spencer, lying in bed, wired and soldered there until someone released her, like a caged animal.

Finally Peter awkwardly cleared his throat. Spencer didn't need to see her father to know he was looking at Veronica for help. He put on a tough front but he always took a beta position to his domineering wife.

"I don't know," Veronica finally whispered. "I don't know." Spencer could practically see her mother shaking her head. "I just don't want to make any calls on this until I'm completely sure we can handle it. Or she can handle it."

The words weren't meant as selfish as they sounded but their impact hurt none the less.

She wondered if this would ever go away. If she'd ever feel completely detached from what her parents said and did when it concerned her. She had wished for it a million times, wished for indifference, wished for blissful oblivion. But she'd realized long ago that no matter what, she'd probably never be completely removed. Her parents weren't monster. Not even close. They were neglectful and pressuring and at times cold and isolating but they loved her, no doubt. They loved her and, at the end of the day, they'd do anything to protect her and make her life better. They weren't always the best at showing it but she knew it was true. And that was the problem. That was why they could still disappoint her. Because they did enough right, they were good enough, to keep her hanging on. To keep her hoping, in spite of herself, and that was how she was constantly let down.

Veronica's voice once again interrupted the conversation. "I guess we could see about taking some more vacation days. Or I could have my team work from our house."

Dr. Barnes cleared his throat, reminding everyone of his presence. "I'm not sure that's a great idea."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, his voice swiftly gaining an edge.

"I recommend we keep a limit on the amount of people Spencer interacts with at once. A crowd too big may trigger something traumatic-"

"Because of the large amount of people in the massacre," Veronica finished for him, her voice growing into a tired, flat tone.

 _Massacre_? That was a word Spencer had yet to hear thrown around. It twisted the ever present knife in her stomach and she knew suddenly that Dr. Barnes was right to urge them to tread lightly around her. Maybe she was as fucked up as he seemed to think.

"We need to see how she reacts and what comes back when she is in a smaller crowd," The physician continued.

"What exactly have we been doing thus far?" Toby asked, exasperated. She could practically see him face palming.

"She hasn't remembered anything nor has she had any sort of recollection that we know of. All I'm saying is I strongly recommend that you keep away large numbers of people."

Veronica and Peter both collectively sighed. "I don't know how much more time off I can take right now," The senator murmured. Spencer could barely make it out and she knew the woman didn't intend for anyone to hear it at all.

The lobbyist shut her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew exactly why her mom would feel that way. She _had_ to understand that. She'd gone to school and studied politics before working for the last year on Capitol Hill. She had to realize, from a logical standpoint, why a brand new senator couldn't take ample time off, for any reason really.

But the irrational part of her, the part buried deep inside, the part that screamed so loud that she could hear her ears ring, wished desperately that her mom would say it didn't matter how long she had to take off or how much she jeopardized her job, Spencer wee more important than anything else in her life.

_She swallowed that part of herself down._

Spencer's attention was called back outside the door as she heard a loud cough, bordering on a choke and she recognized Toby even in a sound so disgruntled.

She instantly felt a chuckle escape, knowing right away why he'd made the strange noise. He found it entirely ridiculous to even begin to imagine Peter and Veronica Hastings being Spencer's safe haven. Both had displayed a complete lack of ability, no matter how much they tried, to totally place their daughter above their emotions.

Just the night before, both of them had managed to get into a separate fight with Dr. Barnes and a nurse on duty. Her father still actively avoided entering the hospital room whenever he could. Her mom had been there, by her side, non-stop but with her nose constantly buried in her cell phone, texting Gil and making calls to her team, it was hard to completely appreciate the gesture.

Spencer hadn't exactly been too broken up about it though, as she craved mainly Toby's presence most hours of the day. He had the ability to soothe her hurt, comfort her fears and make her heart heavy with love, all that the same time. He had the implausible ability to make her feel lucky, even in her drastically dire circumstances.

Toby spoke now, his cough having drawn attention to him. "I can stay with Spencer while you guys get back into your regular routines."

"Toby…." Veronica started, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "I don't want you two in the barn."

There was another stretch of silence and Spencer could only imagine Toby giving her mother a completely blank stare. "Isn't that where you let Caleb and-"

"No!" Veronica refuted before he was even able to finish. "I don't mean it like that." The usually composed and poised woman took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm not comfortable with her sleeping where she was kidnapped."

Realization hit Spencer and she knew this was a point she couldn't argue. Her mom was in the right.

Toby evidently agreed too, though no one was surprised. Veronica's concern was downright logical, though they say lightning never strikes the same place twice. "You're right," He whispered quietly. "I don't want Spencer back in there anymore than you do."

She knew without even being next to him that this was Toby's way of showing her mother that they were on the same side. That they both just were trying to help Spencer, no matter what it took or what they had to do. They both loved her to a fault.

But they had extremely different ways of showing it and that was where things got complicated.

"Please," He whispered again. "We'll sleep in her old room. I'll sleep on the floor," He offered, growing desperate. He swallowed hard enough that it made a sound and Spencer was once again overcome with gratitude at the reminder of how unnatural this all was for him. He hated asking anything of anybody, let alone cut throat, high-powered, stubborn aristocrats like her parents.

But he would do anything for her.

This whole thing was part of the plan Toby and her had come up with yesterday. After she'd said she wanted to go home, while they still laid in her hospital bed, limbs entwined, they'd come up with a plan together on getting her released. Admittedly, it was less of scheming and more of her begging him to convince her parents that she'd be okay out of the hospital, that she wasn't off her rocker, that she did not need psychiatric treatment. But calling it a plan made her feel better. It relieved some of her guilt for putting him in such an uncomfortable position.

Then again, maybe she wasn't giving Toby enough credit. Granted, her parents did freak him out. They did years ago and the three of them had maintained little contact after the breakup, though they all resided in the same town. With the thread that had pulled them together living in D.C, they hadn't seen much of each other and somehow Spencer couldn't imagine Toby didn't still feel the same intimidation.

But he was an established cop now, who had been in a long term relationship with a girl who was a public figure. Who, unlike Spencer, seemed completely oblivious to his social anxiety and, with no cruel intentions, thrust him into the spotlight. Yvonne had made him the center of attention at times when Spencer would have easily taken the wheel.

She'd always thought that she was helping him by stealing the interest, pulling the focus on her so he wasn't put on the spot, but maybe she was only doing him more harm. Maybe he'd needed to be forced to overcome his unease. Maybe she was only stunting him by trying to alleviate his discomfort.

Dr. Barnes' overly calm voice interrupted Spencer's thought process. "You'd have to wake her up every two hours for the first few nights." He was writing something down, scribbling quickly by the sound of it. "I'll write you a prescription for Xanax and Ambien. But," The doctor instructed solemnly, his voice dripping with severity. "Do not give it to her for the first four days and after that, only when absolutely necessary. We have to be very cautious if we do this. Her concussion may not be serious but she was in a coma for days."

 _Coma_. There's another word Spencer hadn't heard mentioned yet and she wondered how it hadn't occurred to her. She knew she had been unconscious for days. Of course, that qualified as a coma.

No wonder everyone was walking on egg shells around her.

It did nothing to alleviate her anxiety to realize that without a severe concussion, the only reason she'd be in a coma was if her emotional trauma was too great for her to handle.

Her memory loss suddenly seemed like an even bigger deal and her stomach ached from deep inside, almost as if a pit was permanently ingraining itself inside of her. She scrubbed her hand across her face, rubbing hard on the lacerations that she barely felt.

"Of course," Toby agreed adamantly. "I'll do whatever you tell me."

Her parents' silence meant they still clearly were not on board this plan. Her father's voice slowly joined the conversation again, a lot quieter than Spencer expected. "I don't want to just take her home, get her settled and then immediately get back to our lives. I don't want to make her feel like we're abandoning her."

His words made Spencer feel an opposition of emotion. Part of her couldn't begin to understand how could he even begin to say that? He didn't want her to feel abandoned? She'd felt abandoned by him since she was in diapers.

But on the other hand, it warmed her to know that he was thinking about how she felt and what she needed. He was _trying_ to put her first and she didn't take that lightly.

"I'm just more comfortable when she's in the hands of trained professionals. People who know what they're doing and easily have access to the resources to help her if she needs it."

Drugs. People who have easy access to sedatives and anti-anxiety medications. That's what her father was saying. He wanted to keep her where they could knock her out if need be.

Somehow, the thought didn't disturb her like she thought it should but didn't ease any tension inside her either. It was like she was reaching her quota once again on what she could process. Even the Mighty Spencer Hastings' brain fried after a while.

"Mr. Hastings," Toby murmured, his voice now agreeable and calm as well. He was keeping his head, though Spencer knew he didn't want to. An obvious sign of the changes in maturity in him in the last three years. It made her proud, as strange as that may be. "Spencer isn't psychotic. She doesn't need to be in the mental ward. She needs to be home, with the people who love her, who can help her through this. Not stuck inside a hospital room. If anything, that's only making her sicker."

Veronica sighed loudly, before turning to the doctor. "Do you really think this is a good idea?" She pressed.

Dr. Barnes didn't answer for a long time and the suspense was giving Spencer stomach cramps. Finally he replied, "I think there is no rush right now and we can wait it out, see how she reacts for the next few days."

Disappointment filled her stomach and Spencer squeezed her eyes shut, working as hard as she could to suppress a groan. It wasn't the answer she wanted and it burned a fire inside her. Her desperation for a hospital discharge had not dissipated even a little overnight and she was clawing at the bed sheets for the chance to escape.

Her mood dropped from impatient to acidosis in the span of a second and she could feel her hands beginning to involuntarily shake.

But there was nothing more Toby could do to try and convince her parents and doctor that she was well enough to leave. Both their hands had been tied just about as tight as they could be and they were now stuck in place.

Toby entered the room, his expression forlorn. His eyes met her's and when he mouthed "I'm so sorry," Spencer felt her own angry dim ever so slightly.

He just went to bat for her. He, once again, proved that there was nothing she couldn't count on him for, nothing she couldn't ask him to do.

He always said _she_ was too hard on herself but, whenever he didn't accomplish exactly what he wanted to do for her, he put himself through the ringer. Whether it be flying to London only to find Melissa missing, to joining the police force only to have Spencer kidnapped a few weeks later, to right now, he wanted to do anything to help her, anything she said she needed, even when it was out of his hands.

She opened her arms and he rapidly moved to embrace her, sitting on the side of her hospital bed. "I'm sorry, Spence," He whispered into her hair.

"Hey," She rubbed his back gently. "You tried. That's all I asked for."

He gave her a sad smile as he pulled back and she couldn't help kissing his cheek softly.

On her opposite side, Veronica took residence in her usual chair but Spencer refused to acknowledge the older woman, even when she could feel her eyes glued to her face.

She knew it was immature to be angry with her parents, when they made it clear their intentions were meant with her best interests in mind but she was a twenty three year old, sitting in a hospital with a partially bankrupt memory, being suspected of the crime that'd victimized _her_ and she wanted nothing more than to get the fuck home. It didn't make her the most pleasant person, it didn't bring out her inner champion and quite frankly, it didn't bring out the adult in her either.

Spencer leaned forward again and pressed another small kiss to Toby's face before pressing another to the underside of his jaw. Her lips lingered on his skin for a long moment and he brought his hand up to cradle the back of her head. She took a deep breath and let her forehead fall against him, trying to rid herself of some of the vinegar in her veins.

She let out another, quieter sigh, as her eyes fell shut, feeling safe in Toby's arms.

Her mother's voice ripped her out of the small tranquility she'd finally managed to find. "Sweetheart, Dr. Barnes would like to keep you under observation for a while longer. Just to see-"

Spencer couldn't let her even finish the placation, her short temper already flared back up. "Mom, I can hear," She cut off. "I heard the conversation just fine from in here."

Veronica sighed and scrubbed her hand across her face, defeated. For a moment it made Spencer felt a twinge of remorse for putting her parents through this. But there was so little room left even in her overly organized brain and the guilt didn't fully hit her the way it maybe should have.

"You guys are going to keep me here for as long as you can, aren't you?" Spencer asked, dejected, training her eyes on her mom's slacks.

She expected a knee jerk reaction of defense. A snap from her mother that she was being difficult or irrational or just downright irritating. But instead a look of contrition and fear flickered upon her mother's face and Spencer felt like she was being punched in the stomach for the thirtieth time since she woke up.

They were afraid of her. Her own parents were completely afraid of her. They didn't trust her. They thought she was capable of being a monster.

It hadn't hit her until that moment that they weren't just doubtful about what had happened, they weren't just unsure. They actually, really, truly thought there was a possibility of her being guilty.

This brought out stronger rage towards her mother and she knew instinctively why. Her dad knew what Melissa did all those years ago, burying Bethany alive. Her mother did not. So for her mom to think that her youngest was capable of taking a life when it was her firstborn who had actually committed such a crime, it felt like another punch to the gut and struck her as an unforgivable betrayal.

Your mom is supposed to know you better than anyone on this planet. And yet, sometimes Spencer felt like this woman never really saw her at all.

She swallowed hard, so sick and tired of getting lumps in her throat. She fought the urge to claw at herself and it hit her again that she was literally going insane in this place.

Maybe that was their whole point. Keep her here until she actually loses her damn mind and then they can transfer her to the psyche ward in good conscience.

Toby rubbed her shoulder blades, silently drawing her closer to him again. He understood her frustration. He didn't judge her for how she was acting. He believed in her innocence, probably more than she did.

He was way too good for her and it frightened her that one day he'd realized it too.

Spencer squeezed him tighter, physically using him as an anchor. Anchor to this moment, anchor to her sanity.

Veronica and Peter shared a look and Spencer couldn't comprehend in the slightly what it meant.

Before one more thing could drive her over the edge, Veronica spoke again. "We just want what's best for you, Spencer."

"I know," She mumbled faintly, still holding onto Toby. "But I'm so tired of being kept in the dark. There are things you two know and you're not telling me. I can feel it. _Melissa_ can feel it," She emphasized. Her mom tried to interrupt her but Spencer just spit more words out, growing louder, unable to be cut off. "I know all the doctors told you to keep quiet and not say anything that could rock my fragile, little mind but I deserve to know what happened. Or at least as much of what happened as you know."

"Spencer," Peter groaned. He was never quite as good at keeping his cool like her mother was. "We don't know anymore about what happened than you-"

"I don't even know the details of the attack. I don't know the time I was kidnapped or when I was found or how long I was AWOL or," She struggled to take a breath, her chest growing tighter, her head growing heavier.

"Spence," Toby called, instantly on high alert, reaching for the call button.

"I'm fine," She gasped, taking a hard, deep breath and slowing down.

" _This_ is why you're still in the hospital," Veronica reprimanded now, her voice harsh as a bite. It was clear that Spencer's demeanor was rubbing off quite generously.

But Spencer hadn't completed her own thought and wasn't about to be detoured. "I don't even get to know the names of the people killed."

Toby's expression grew even graver, if that were possible.

When neither of her parents responded, she continued her rant, pouring out every thought running through her head. "What if I never get my memory back? Will I be stuck here forever? Or did you guys forget that I don't remember the night Ali disappeared?"

"Honey-"

"I don't remember much of the dollhouse, either. My memory never comes back and you guys are holding back vital things that could put pieces of the puzzle together for me and you refuse to say anything because of what some genius in a white coat says?"

It registered only after she finished her rant that both her parents were looking not at her, but at Toby. Their expressions were of sheepish concern and it bewildered her enough that she stopped talking.

Were they looking at him because they thought he is the only one who knew how to deal with her overdramatic, hyperventilating rants? Or were they looking at him because he, too, knew something that she didn't?

Either way, there was fire coursing through her veins and it was begging explode. "Why are you looking at me? Why do you guys evade all my questions? I can't ever get a straight answer out of you guys, even when it's about not getting a straight answer-"

"Okay, Spencer," Veronica finally tore her eyes off Toby to look at her daughter. "That's enough-"

But she wasn't a child and being treated like a misbehaving one only served in making her that much angrier.

"It's like you guys are incapable of empathy! You don't even realize for a second just how daunting this is?"

Veronica had had just about enough of this argument though. "We know how you must feel, Spencer, we know this isn't easy, we know you're scared, but you don't realize how it feels to watch your daughter go through this! You're not the only one here who's going through hell!"

_"You're not the only person here who's gonna be going through hell if we don't get by silently," A familiar voice commanded, though his volume was no more than a whisper. He was speaking to her and to another boy and girl. "If this person sees us, we're all dead. Or worse. So I need you to listen carefully."_

_The girl next to her shook violently, but she couldn't look at her, the feeling of pure terror, worse than any fear she'd ever felt before and yet, somehow still so recognizable, paralyzed her. She could only stare straight ahead, her vision slightly blurred, like she was looking through glasses with a prescription she didn't need. She wasn't seeing anything clearly. Her ears felt like they were plugged, like she was on a plane that was about to land._

_There was a loud, terrorizing buzzing in the background and it took her an incredibly slow second to realize it was a voice, bellowing only a few feet away._

_There was something blocking them, something shielding them, something that was preventing whoever was ranting from seeing the four of them huddled in a circle._

_She realized that the only reason she could feel the girl next to her shaking was because they were pressed up against each other, grasping hands and hooking arms and digging their nails into each other and hanging on for dear life._

_There was a sense of familiarity to the people surrounding her in this huddle but she was far too scared to register them completely, almost as if her brain had been damaged or had partially evaporated. She wasn't herself but she wasn't having an out of body experience._

_It was like she was already half dead._

_"We need to focus-"_

_Suddenly, the man that had been speaking, the hushed whisper that was providing them all direction cut themselves off._

_Filling its place was a loud voice, a screeching, harrowing tone but she couldn't hear a thing. She had gone all but deaf. Her brain had shut down._

_She squeezed her eyes shut so tightly, so fiercely, as if she could literally wish herself away, like she was Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz._

_Every limb, every muscle, every vertebrae in her body was quivering now, just like the girl next to her. She couldn't feel anything, she couldn't feel her body, she couldn't feel the girl hanging onto her, she couldn't feel the ground underneath her or the arms over her or anything and just when she thought she was going to explode, fly into a million pieces, die violently, a loud bang filled the air and instantly the boy huddled in the group, the one she'd barely paid any attention to, screamed._

_He screamed louder than she'd ever heard before in her entire life, even through all the traumatic experiences she'd been put through. She'd never heard the scream of someone who was literally having the life shot out of them._

_There were more gunshots, more screaming and she felt warm blood splatter onto her skin, soaking through her clothes and it was all she could feel._

_The boy's screams didn't lessen even slightly as the shooter walked away. They didn't lessen as he continued to bleed out, onto the ground, onto them._

_None of them moved, all stunned to their exact spot, no one even breathing._

_There were more people outside their huddle, more loud cries, more screaming, more wailing and choking and thrashing and banging and retching and it all was too much to handle, too much to process and she wanted so badly to close her eyes, to forget everything she saw the moment she saw it but she couldn't. Her eyelids were stapled open, and she watched with vicious intent the boy across from her as his blood spilled onto the ground and his voice faltered._

_His face clarified and his features registered in Spencer's mind for the first time, and yet, she didn't recognize the boy. She didn't know him. She'd never seen him before in her life. She didn't have even the slightest clue who he was._

_She didn't know him and yet, she watched him die._

Her bed was shaking, the room was shaking, the entire hospital was shaking as the lights and pale walls and papery sheets all hit Spencer all at once.

There were hands on her, roughly trying to hold her down and she realized she was shaking, not the room.

Not shaking. Thrashing. Thrashing so ferociously, she realized somewhat detached, they were probably going to put her in restraints. The needles attached to her body were being ripped around in the most excruciating way possible.

"Spencer," Toby called, the first sound she registered, his voice rough and petrified and she hated herself for making him feel this way. "Spence, please, look at me. Calm down and look at me."

And just like that, her hearing all came back to her and she heard a loud, animistic screaming. No, screeching would be a better word. It was guttural, it was cacophonous and it was painful.

And it was entirely her.

"Get in here! We need help!" She heard her father yell out the door to the hallway as they were joined by others. Clearly doctors. Multiple doctors.

She attempted to open her eyes, to still her body, to stop screaming but it felt like her body was no longer her's, like she was being possessed.

Like she was still stuck inside that building, watching the boy she'd never met bleed to death right before her eyes.

She felt someone else's hands help Toby hold her down, and then another set too. Six hands all trying to contain a hundred and twelve pound girl.

She felt the needle to sedate her, hovering above her now, getting closer and closer as the six hands all tried to hold her still, when suddenly her body cooperated with her mind and she went still.

"Spencer," Toby gasped, holding his hand up to stop the sedation. "Spence," He whispered.

She was hyperventilating and her chest was on fire and she felt like imminent death was upon her.

"I-I-I" She gasped out. Her head felt like she was just hit by a semi-truck and her arms throbbed from the thrashing with needles still attached and her back was numb and someone had to be squeezing her throat.

 _I can't breathe_ , she wanted to say. _I can't breathe, I want to but I can't and please, oh God, please, don't sedate me._

She struggled and choked and coughed and shook violently as four hands let go of her and the two hands she knew better than her own held her tighter.

Toby pulled her up, from her position she didn't even know she'd assumed. The second she was upright, her head lolled straight down and her airways cleared and she could breathe again. And then suddenly, she vomited everywhere.

* * *

"It's okay," Toby whispered, pushing her hair back soothingly, his voice as soft as he could make it.

It was clear whatever had just happened had terrified him almost as much as it had her.

Every needle was removed from her body, as they were doing more harm than good now. Both her arms were wrapped in white bandages, where the skin ripped open. The stiff hospital sheets were gone. She was stripped out of now soiled hospital gown.

Toby pressed kiss after kiss to her forehead and hairline, holding her against him, her head tucked under his chin, resting in his arms like a rag doll. Like she had after escaping the dollhouse. "Toby," She finally gasped out, her first word since she'd flipped out.

"I'm here, baby," He whispered and his repeated words from when she'd first woke up almost brought a smile to her face. Almost. "I'm right here."

She stayed there in his arms, resting in the one place she'd ever felt safe, for minutes on end. His lips repeatedly pressed kisses into her wildly messy hair, his fingertips tracing patterns on her bare, flushed skin, his arms tightly wound around her.

"I'm not going anywhere," He promised as her hands tightly gripped his shirt.

This was the third time she'd clutched him to her in just that day and yet, she needed every embrace like her life depended on it.

She shut her eyes and made no move to leave his hold. She had pressed so tightly to him, she was physically in his lap.

She wasn't crying though. She wasn't anything. She was barely responsive. Her eyes were frozen open and all she could do was clutch Toby to her, like he was additional limb to her body.

Finally, when she'd held onto him for so long that her hands had gone numb, she stiffly leaned out of his embrace, her upper body falling against the pillows while her legs stayed on Toby's thighs.

"Sweetheart," Veronica whispered from the opposite side of the bed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer didn't know if it was the incident itself or the traumatized expression that lingered on her face but either way, everyone was fearful of breaking her now.

Even she was afraid of breaking herself now.

She shivered and instantly Toby was reaching for his zip up that laid against the back of a chair in the corner. He wrapped it around her, giving her some kind of warmth until they got her a new hospital gown.

"Spencer," Veronica murmured again, leaning forward, both scared and unsure of what reaction she'd get from her tornado of a daughter.

She didn't expect the one she got. "Mommy," Spencer whimpered and, without thinking twice, her mother wrapped her up in her arms. "Mom," The twenty-three-year old cried again and it was ridiculously reminiscent of the night she'd found Toby in her kitchen, dressed as -A.

The only key difference way now Toby sat on the corner of her bed, with his head buried in his hands, absolutely horrified by what had just played out in front of him.

Dr. Barnes and another white coat joined them once again. "Honey," Veronica whispered again. She rubbed her daughter's back and smoothed down her hair and it barely registered inside Spencer's mind, but her mom was actually consoling her without any awkwardness or even the slightest hesitation. It was the universe's trade. She got what she'd always wished for but the price was too high to be grateful for it.

Her mother's eyes slowly traveled to the two men standing at the end of the bed, her expression one of desperation. Even Toby now was looking at the physicians, his eyes wide and aghast.

"Spencer," Dr. Barnes started gently. "Did you remember anything?"

Spencer didn't respond, even as her mother slowly pulled back, looking at her face, waiting for an answer.

She opened her mouth to speak, to explain but nothing came out. Her eyes remained downcast, her expression disturbed and uneasy.

A hand, so familiar it almost felt like her own, grasped her's for support and she gave Toby a squeeze, silently.

When she didn't respond, when she couldn't, when she didn't meet anyone's eyes, Veronica finally spoke for her. "She isn't ready to do this right now. Come back later," She directed, leaving no room for argument in her voice. What the woman said was final.

Both doctors nodded, the foreign one writing something down on his clipboard. "Okay, that's fine. Whenever you feel ready, Spencer," Dr. Barnes assured, smiling kindly.

The unfamiliar doctor seemed to think it was a good idea to give his input. "Well, in any case, I'd say this is a good thing."

Spencer was taken aback by the nameless man and felt a rapidly growing dislike for the stranger. How could anyone think what just happened was a good thing?

She wasn't alone as Toby and her mother both gaped at him, their eyes narrowing, like he was an imbecile. They couldn't be any more different and yet, their expressions were mirrors of each other.

Veronica atypically struggled for her words. "I'm sorry-"

"What?" Toby finished for her, his voice jagged and harsh and Spencer wondered if she'd did this to him. Turned her sweet, soft-spoken boyfriend into a biting, protective viper. She didn't know if that was a good or an awful thing.

Seeing their reactions, Dr. Barnes struggled for a segue, trying to keep this conversation away from the girl in the bed, who'd just proven how truly unstable she was.

"Let's take this out into the hall," He suggested, gesturing with his chin towards the door.

Veronica nodded and pushed out of her chair, touching her daughter's cheek gently once more before walking out.

Spencer still kept her eyes downcast, taking short, choppy breaths. Dr. Barnes waited for Toby to follow Veronica. The twenty-four-year old cop didn't take his eyes off Spencer. "Do you want-"

Without meeting his eyes, she cut off his question in a monotone. "You're staying."

"Okay," He chuckled slightly, the first sound he'd made in almost a half hour that wasn't somewhat tragic.

Dr. Barnes left with the other doctor in tow, giving the couple privacy. They sat there for almost five minutes in silence, neither of them moving even a hair, hearing both Peter and Veronica talk in hushed voices with the two medical professionals. They did a better job of keeping their voices down than earlier but Spencer could still make out words like "long term", "psychologist", and "traumatized".

When she felt like she couldn't handle hearing them anymore, that their words were gonna drive her completely mad, she spoke again, still keeping her eyes trained downwards. "Sit with me," She said, not even asking.

Toby smiled smally at her, though she wasn't looking at his face. He scooted closer to her, leaning his back against the bed and pulling her tight to his chest.

With his arms around her, she felt like she could finally breathe again. She inhaled and exhaled multiple times as his ran his fingers through her hair tenderly.

"I did remember," She finally said, with no preamble. "I remembered something."

He didn't respond right away, not breaking the rhythm of his fingers running through her hair. "I know," He stated quietly. "You were talking while thrashing. The screaming didn't start right away. I couldn't make sense of much of it but I figured something came back."

She didn't say anything else for over a minute. "Do you want to know?" She mumbled almost inaudibly.

His hand began massaging the back of her head. "Do you want to tell me?" He whispered back, studying her face.

She took a deep breath in and then, leisurely, let it out. Her eyes finally traveled up to his face, meeting his oceanic orbs with her own red rimmed mocha ones. She was mildly surprised to find his were red rimmed too. "Not really. Not right now."

He nodded, understanding and entirely alright with her answer. "Okay," He pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Are you mad?" She asked softly, feeling guilty for not telling him more, for not sharing every thought that entered her mind, for keeping him in the dark at all.

"No, of course not," He assured instantly, astonished she'd even ask him that.

She choked down a gulp. "I just...don't know how to describe..."

"It's okay," He rubbed her back. "Wait until you know you're ready. Don't let anyone push you to do or say something you're not ready for. If I've learned anything from being a cop, it's never let anyone pressure you into anything. Whether you're the cop or the subject."

His words, completely unintentionally, were the first thing since the flashback that made her laugh.

His eyes widened, shocked. "What?"

"It's just cute to hear you talk like a cop," She giggled quietly.

He narrowed his eyes at her but his face broke out into a grin too. "I think you're making fun of me."

"You think right."

He laughed now, his voice still half strained, but a weight was lifted off him, seeing her smile. A weight was lifted off him, seeing a weight lifted off _her_.

"I love you."

* * *

She had a migraine, she'd told him. She had laid, pressed against him for minutes on end, long after her parents had finished up with the doctors and went down to the cafeteria. It wasn't going away, she'd said and she wanted him to go find medication. He had argued that it was probably better to try eating first but she had no interest in hospital food so Toby had sighed, rubbed her temple, kissed her and went off to find a medical professional to give her the pain killers she wanted.

Even with her refusal for food though, he didn't return to the room right away. Instead he wandered aimlessly down the stairs to the cafeteria, with a purpose in mind.

He found exactly what he was looking for almost instantaneously. Or rather _who_ he was looking for.

The senator sat across from her husband, both of their expressions distressed and bleak. She said something to him too quiet for Toby to hear. The man's head didn't rise at his wife's words. "Why," Peter said gruffly, none too quiet, "does she lose her memory of every night someone gets murdered?"

"Peter," Veronica warned but her voice sounded more tired than mad. "Not now."

"And when would be a better time to approach the subject?" The lawyer slammed his coffee down on the table, the hot liquid sloshing everywhere. "Fuck!" He exclaimed.

"Peter!" Veronica hissed again, nudging him roughly. "Don't cause a scene!"

The graying man gave her a sardonic look before laughing, not out of humor but out of disbelief. "Veronica, we are in public, you're the new state senator and our daughter is the only survivor of a massacre by a currently unknown assailant. I don't have to raise my voice for everyone to stare."

The woman gripped her purse and shoved briskly away from the table. "Enough, Peter," She called over her shoulder, heading for the exit back to Spencer's hospital room. She just about ran into him head on before she noticed Toby's place by the cafeteria entryway. "Toby," She gasped breathlessly. Veronica looked like she'd aged a hundred years since the night she was elected.

Toby looked at his shoes, unable to find a good segue into a conversation before forgoing small talk altogether and jumping to the point. "I came down to tell you that Spence should get something to eat. And she doesn't want hospital food."

"Of course," Veronica nodded, trying to hide her anguish, turning towards Spencer's father who was wiping up his spilled coffee with paper napkins. "Maybe Peter could go get her something."

"Yeah," Toby nodded, unable to stop his stare from growing colder as his eyes interlocked with the elder Hastings male. "I think that's a good idea."

Neither parent missed his underlying message and neither commented either. They were both a little surprised by the always shy police officer's dig, especially as the dynamic between him and Spencer's parents had been somewhat warm for some time now.

Toby didn't wait for a response from either one, not interested in having a conversation at the moment when Spencer was upstairs, petrified of her own shadow. As he rounded the corner to the elevator he heard a voice call out to him. "Toby," Peter halted, his expression one of exhaust and affliction. "Wait up." Toby met Peter's eyes and felt a pang of sympathy for the man, contrasting with the complete disdain he'd felt only moments prior. "Can we talk?" The attorney asked and held out a peace offering; a cigarette. Toby looked towards the opening doors of the elevator and then back at Peter, unable to decide. "Her mother will be up there any minute," The father assured him, reading the worry in his expression.

Toby shut his eyes, wanting to say that Veronica's presence might make Spencer worse, not better, but bit his tongue, knowing that both mother and daughter deserved to time together without his constant presence joining them. He finally nodded at the older man and followed him out the doors to the outside. "I didn't know you smoked," Toby stated, only half interested as Peter lit a cigarette. "At least not cigarettes. Spencer always said you did cigars but-"

"Only with clients," Peter finished, a smile in his eyes. "It can be good for business but, personally, I'd much rather be smoking these," He held out the pack in Toby's direction again.

"No thanks, sir," The 24 year old declined.

Peter put them back into his pocket before blowing a puff of smoke into the air and chuckling. "Did you know I caught Spencer smoking one time? She was no more than fifteen. She'd just had a blowout with her sister. Her mother and I sided with Melissa."

 _Naturally_.

"I walked outside an hour later to close the barn up, only to see Spencer smoking with her back to me. I ripped the cigarette out of her hand so fast she didn't hear me coming and jumped three feet. Never told her mother, though. Guess I thought she'd make me quit smoking if she found out."

Toby smiled at the story but it was lifeless. "What'd you want to talk to me about, Mr. Hastings?" Peter's expression grew somber and he finished his cigarette before speaking.

"I want to know if you think Spencer had anything to do with...what happened," The older man said quietly. Toby jolted with a spark of anger.

"You really think Spencer would do this?" He asked bitingly.

"Toby, she is the only survivor of the entire massacre. All her injuries are surface wounds. There has got to be more to it than we know. Why was she there, out of all the girls, why were any of those people there, why are half their bodies missing? Why was there gun powder on my daughter's hands?"

"Can't you just thank god that she's alive?" The cop snapped. "Can't you just be grateful she is okay? That she isn't dead too? That by some miracle she was spared?"

"If course I'm fucking grateful!" Peter roared back. "For the last week, I've been thanking a god I haven't prayed to in over five years that my daughter is still alive. She's my little girl," Peter exclaimed. "I don't know what I'd done if she wasn't still here." He shook his head and dropped his volume down as rapidly as he'd raised it. "But I have to know. Why was she spared? Why doesn't she remember what happened? Why is her mental health deteriorating? I _have_ to know."

Toby suddenly wished he'd taken a cigarette though he'd never smoked a day in his life. "At least now I know where Spencer gets her inability to let things go from."

Peter chuckled despite himself. "Veronica's just as much at fault for that as I am. And you never answered my question."

Toby sighed deeply before speaking. "Spencer would never hurt anyone. Ever."

The lawyer didn't say else anything for a long time. Just as Toby was about to return inside, Peter reached out and touched his shoulder. He'd never done it before and Toby realized it was the first time he'd ever showed even the slightest fatherly concern towards him. "How are you doing with...everything else?" The sergeant gave him a perplexed look, even though he knew exactly what he was asking. "How are you holding up with," Peter swallowed hard, making it blatantly obvious this kind of talk wasn't his forte in the least.

Before he could even string together a suitable sentence though, Toby was opening the door to the hospital entrance. "I'm holding up fine."


	8. Chapter Eight

"Oh, honey," Veronica murmured into her daughter's hair, smoothing it down her back once again.

After leaving the cafeteria the senator had walked into the room, expecting another tornado from her daughter, only to find a quiet, shaky version of her sitting up in bed.

Toby's presence could only calm her for so long and when it was missing, it felt like the tragedy hit her all over again. The amount of pain and suffering she'd endured and witnessed became too much to handle. Her own state of confusion, her own internal battle, gnawed at her from the inside out, made her feel like her body would give out on her, give up and detonate.

People were not made to bear this burden. She couldn't handle it. Spencer Hastings, who said once she could handle anything, who believed herself stronger and was believed invincible by all her friends, couldn't handle what was happening now.

It killed her. It killed parts of her soul that she had to, in one way or another, admit defeat. She wasn't who she should have been, who she convinced everyone for a few years that she could become, and it was a hard pill to swallow.

She supposed she should be grateful for small blessings. When her mother came back up to her room, words weren't needed. She took in her daughter's appearance, her emotional state and she gathered her into her arms.

Spencer read once that no one could make you feel safer than your mom. That no matter how old you grew, your mom would always be the one place you could go for sanctuary. She'd never thought that could apply to her and Veronica. The tension that lingered between her and every member of her family killed any sort of feeling of security. She'd never felt that connection, that unspeakable bond that would never be dissolved.

She saw how Hanna was with Ashley and how Aria was with Ella. She witnessed countless times Emily and Pam had a heart to heart moment or how much Mona's mom adored her. She'd read how Toby was literally his mother's entire life and heard how Caleb met his mom again after all those years apart and somehow, their connection was strong enough to mend a fence that seemed completely irreparable.

She'd seen how her mom treated Melissa and thought that, maybe, she only had enough love for one child. Maybe Melissa was really just special enough that she consumed the love that was supposed to belong to Spencer.

Maybe this was her fault, maybe there was something defective inside her that put up a roadblock with her mom. Made her impossible to form that sort of special bond with.

But it wasn't until now that she realized just how wrong she'd been.

Her mom may not be the perfect mother, may not always be nurturing, may not always be there when Spencer needed her. But she was one of the only people in the world that could hold Spencer and tell her everything would be okay. And she'd actually believe for a second it was true.

Veronica rocked her back and forth, with no impatience in her movements.

"Mom," Spencer whispered again and, unsurprisingly, heard tears in her own voice.

"I know, sweetie," The senator whispered, kissing her hair. "I know you're scared."

Spencer nodded into her mom's shoulder, unsure of what she even planned on saying anyway. Everything felt like a blur, like a dreaming trance. Things one second felt harsh and brutal and harrowing. The next second they felt unreal and numb and she wondered if she was going mad or if this was a hospital drug doing this to her.

When the time came, long after they fell back into silence, that Spencer pulled away from her mother, she was caught off guard by the tears on her face.

"Mom," She gasped, unsure how to mend whatever she'd done to the usually powerful, intimidating, alpha female.

Veronica shook her head, a small, slightly embarrassed, smile playing on her mouth. "Honey, don't worry about me. I'm fine." She stroked her daughter's cheek with the back of her hand. "Take a deep breath, okay?" Spencer did as told, expanding her lungs and letting go. "It's okay," Veronica murmured. "Everything's okay."

The words didn't placate Spencer, not in the least, but she took them for what they were worth. Her mom wanted to make her feel better, wanted to ease her conscious, comfort the pain that was overwhelming her psyche.

So she let her. She forced a shaky, pitiful smile and tried to give her mother's hand a reassuring squeeze.

It didn't exactly work, as the older woman was far from fooled. But the effort was appreciated and that was all that Spencer was really aiming for.

Her permanent, never-ending, all-consuming exhaustion began to creep back up and the brunette let her head recline back against the mattress.

She realized then that one of the reasons her mom was being so genuinely nurturing is that Spencer had lost the barrier, somehow, that pushed people out. She didn't recall the moment her guard went down and she knew without a doubt, it'd rise back up soon enough but, for a hot second, she didn't feel the discomfort, the feeling of exposure, the almost humiliation boiling in the pit of her stomach, at the thought of letting people in.

She no longer had the energy to shove people away.

She'd also lost the energy to care if her parents even believed in her innocence. Melissa was right. It didn't matter what they thought or didn't think.

What happened was unspeakable. It was harrowing to even consider in detail. She'd do anything, anything in the world, to never again get another flashback.

Even the possibility of it made her eyes water and her chest heave. She'd never wanted to be in the dark so much in her life. This was worse than the dollhouse. This was worse than anything -A had ever inflicted on her before.

So much darkness and pain and anger and exhaustion and gripping, gnawing fear and she could practically feel herself begin to tremble.

"Sweetie," Her mom whispered, cupping her face. Evidently, her inner struggle was visible. To no surprise.

Spencer felt her hand travel up to her mouth, her lifelong habit of nail biting reappearing instantly.

It was a habit that Veronica had always severely scolded her for, had nudged her angrily in public for doing, and had eventually insisted on buying her acrylics to stop.

But the habit brought a real, genuine smile to the senator's face now.

Spencer dropped her hand back into her lap, casting her eyes downwards. "I'm sorry," She mumbled.

Veronica let out a sigh, studying her daughter's face. "I was always too hard on you. Wasn't I?"

The statement shocked the girl in the bed. Her parents had rarely acknowledged how hard she worked or even praised how smart she was or her accomplishments. It was usually a given that she be brilliant and poised and graceful and quick on her feet.

But never in all her life had either her mom or dad ever acknowledged that, maybe, they were wrong for forcing so much pressure on either of their daughters.

At her lack of response, Veronica continued. "I didn't mean to be-I mean, I didn't set out to be. I thought I was helping… I thought I was helping you." The older woman looked down, fighting back tears.

In all her life, Spencer could count on one hand the amount of times she'd ever seen her mom struggle like this. It made her feel wholly distressed and strangely responsible. Like she was hurting her mom intentionally. She could feel her skin begin to perspire, the air growing thicker and heavier and she hoped fruitlessly that she wouldn't have a panic attack now.

"I thought it was my responsibility to make you and your sister the best you could possibly be. The best versions of yourselves. I should have realized I'd end up hurting you along the way… ." Veronica blurted out, as she wrung her hands. Spencer listened intently, struck into silence. "You were always different, did you know that? Always more… sensitive. I thought you would grow out of it, or maybe it was a phase, but I should have protected you. I didn't pay close enough attention to how it affected you, and by the time I realized how deeply you were hurting-how deeply I'd hurt you, you'd distanced yourself from me-from everyone _so much_ and I was too scared to find out that it may be too late to ask for forgiveness or-or to change. I didn't know how to chang-"

"Mom," Spencer cut off, grasping her hand, the tables turning and suddenly, she wanted to console the older Hastings woman. She wanted to get rid of that look of despair on her mother's face that agonizingly twisted her insides. The tears and terror still evident in her voice made her less than reassuring though. "Mom, you didn't-"

But the senator wasn't done yet, her mouth still ejecting words rapidly. "You're so wonderful, you know that, right? From the day you were born-I just… You're my ba-"

Just as Veronica tried to spit the right words, say the right combination of vowels and consonants to convey how she felt, the door to the private room opened and closed, cacophonously.

Peter looked between the two women, sheepishly apologizing. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

But his entrance brought another figure to light. Toby, who'd been standing by the door, lurking back in the shadows, abruptly became visible to the young lobbyist.

Their eyes met, chocolate and an oceanic blue. Not a single word was needed as she opened her arms, hungrily, beckoning him, like magnets pulling together. He rushed forward and, with the force of a viper, he gathered her close, sweeping her up like dust off the ground.

She didn't cry again. She was beginning to think- _hope_ -that she was all cried out. There were only so many emotions one person could feel before they were nothing but a heaping, bawling mess.

Hell, Spencer was already pretty sure she was already there. Her entire body felt worn thin and flimsy. It ached in ways she was all too familiar with. It was a hurt that she'd been forced to become acquainted with many times in her adolescence, most notably the month she spent inside the dollhouse, when she had nothing to do but sit in her devastation and her consternation.

She shoved any memory of the bunker away, willing herself not to get even more worked up.

Over Toby's shoulder, Spencer noticed her mother's feeble attempt to collect herself.

As soon as the older woman noticed her daughter's gaze, she stood up hastily, making a beeline for the door. "I'm going to call your grandma, let her know how you're doing," She called over her shoulder but the words were badly executed. It made the brunette feel both awkward and unsettled to witness her mother in such an unbalanced state.

Peter's eyes followed Veronica too but, much to Spencer's utter shock, he didn't seem to find anything out of the ordinary about his ex-wife's behavior.

After a few seconds, he wordlessly sighed and, slightly begrudged, followed the senator down the hall. "Be right back, champ."

Spencer's gaze dazedly tracked from her parents' chaotic exits, back to the cop sitting across from her.

"What was that about?" He questioned softly, the confusion in his eyes and tone completely endearing to Spencer, though she felt just as lost as him.

She shook her head, the movement slow and short. "I have no clue."

"What was she going to say when your dad interrupted?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow, taking on a slightly lighter demeanor, though her tone remained still quiet and contained. "Why don't you tell me?" She smirked. "You were here."

Toby flushed faintly. "I wasn't trying to pry-"

"Eavesdropping on my conversations is really starting to become a regular habit, huh, babe?" Before he could try to stutter out an apology or explanation, she gave him a-albeit forced-chuckle, taking his hand in her's.

"I was going to leave," He amended, still mildly embarrassed. "I was just scared that I'd accidentally slam the door and really disturb-"

"I know," She cut off, nodding and laughing quietly now. "I know you, Tobes." He gave a smile at her assurance, one filled with a love that rivaled the amount in his eyes. "Do _you_ have any idea what my mother was so upset about?"

Toby's expression faltered. The lightness disappeared but the adoration remained and, in place of the buoyancy, tenderness filled his eyes.

"Sweetheart," Toby finally murmured, brushed back her hair away from her face. "Her daughter was abducted from her barn. She thought…" He cut himself off, not wanting to have to say the words. "She has a lot to be on edge about."

His words were amiable, but Spencer could tell that underneath his calm and compassionate exterior, he was growing irritated that her parents weren't keeping their own issues away from her. That they were adding to her burden.

She supposed he was right in a sense, but she didn't exactly agree with him. Logically, she knew she would probably feel the same in Toby's position, but all she could think about was the fact that her mom was more upset than Spencer had ever seen her and somehow, she felt like she was to blame for it.

"I feel like it's my fault she's so on edge," Spencer confided in a low tone, after a beat of silence.

"Spence," Toby exclaimed softly. "What're you talking about? You are the last person who is at fault for _anything_ right now."

She just shrugged but didn't comment back, unsure what to even say.

The cop read her like book. "What? What are you thinking?" He pushed gently, running a hand down her arm, trying to soothe her body's constant shaking.

Again, Spencer shrugged, more defiant this time. "That my little psychotic episode is what's fucking my mom up," She finally admitted, somewhat begrudged for being prodded into voicing her thoughts.

Toby refuted that almost instantly. "Spence-"

"I know," She cut off, her voice rising to a slightly normal volume, raspy and rough. "You said it already, Toby. She's stressed because of what happened to me on principal. But she wasn't showing it so much until I decided to start having hallucinogen panic attacks."

"Babe, she has been a complete nervous wreck since the night you were admitted."

That astonished her. "W-what?" The girl in the bed just stared at him, stunned out of words.

Toby gave her a meaningful look, guilt evident on his face. Clearly this was something he didn't think he should have admitted.

"What are you talking about, Toby," Spencer pushed, the determination he loved so much in full force now. "How has she been a wreck? She seemed fine to me. Okay, not _fine_ but not like she was falling apart at the seams. I think she had a bigger reaction when Meli-"

"She's been hiding it, Spence. Pretty well, actually. If I hadn't been here since the first night you were brought in-"

" _What_ happened that first night?"

Toby sighed, his eyes growing sadder and sadder the longer this conversation went on. "She came running to me at the hospital, ahead of your dad. She found me first and hugged me-"

That was enough to floor Spencer. "She _hugged_ you?" She repeated, dumbstruck. "I don't think I've ever seen her hug anyone who didn't share blood with her. And even then, we damn near have to be in hysterics majority of the time. I don't even remember her hugging my dad."

Toby continued, looking apologetic for what he was about to say. "She was throwing up for the first couple of nights. Violently. I thought she was going to be diagnosed with an ulcer."

"Throwing up?" Spencer repeated all over again. The cop nodded confirmation, leaving her speechless. "Really?"

She knew her mother loved her. She'd never really doubted that. But she never once, in all her life, imagined that she'd have this extreme of reactions to _Spencer_.

The revelation didn't make her feel any sort of pleasure. It made her feel sick inside, sicker than she already did.

Toby leaned in and kissed her neck. "Veronica isn't worked up because of your panic attack. She's just struggling-"

"Because of me in general," Spencer cut off, looking him in the eye knowingly.

"With what's happened to you," He corrected. The brunette didn't look any less self-loathing. "Do you remember…" He stopped himself now, clearly battling if he should say whatever he was thinking.

"I remember a lot of things, Tobes, but I'm not a mind reader."

He sighed, smiling slightly at her sass. "Do you remember when you were in the dollhouse?" She tensed instantly at mention of those horrendous three weeks. Toby had expected this and hurried to get out the rest of his words. "And Ashley Marin had to go to the hospital because her worry for Hanna made her physically ill?"

She saw where he was going with this now. "Yeah, I guess that's a fair comparison," She sighed.

"Did you think for one second it was Hanna's fault?" He asked.

Spencer raised her eyes up to meet his, her sarcasm making an appearance. "No, officer, I didn't."

He burst out laughing, caught off guard. "Come here, dork." He tugged her into his arms, burying his face into her neck and immediately planting kisses there. "None of this is your fault," he reaffirmed. "None."

She smiled dimly into his shoulder, but didn't say another word.

* * *

Veronica returned later, to find Spencer lying back in bed with her eyes trained on the twenty-four year old cop. She didn't look exactly upset but she looked _sad._ She looked exhausted, probably mentally and physically. And she looked hopeless.

She'd been in the hospital for too many days now. She barley even kept count.

She was tired of begging to go home, only to be rejected and placated, time and time again. She was tired of being lied to and tired of being confined to a bed and tired of being confused and in the dark and tired to be destroyed by her own psyche and tired of hating herself from the inside out for being in this situation in the first place.

Toby stared back at her, his own face full of love and utter, incomparable devotion. But underneath it all, his own expression held trepidation . He knew Spencer, at times better than he knew himself. He could see she was spinning off the edge and he knew he was helpless to do anything to pull her back.

She didn't say a word for the rest of the night. She stared straight ahead at Toby, despondent, and rarely when she did advert her eyes to anything else, it was usually only for a few minutes.

Her father rejoined them later, updating them that Melissa wouldn't be back tonight-real heartbreak for everyone in the room-as she had business to adhere to. Someone, he stated, had to deal with her mother's affairs. Her mother's affairs, as in her work as the state senator. The work she currently was in no shape to do, because her daughter's mess was ruining her life.

Toby knew before her parents that was the exact wrong thing to say. He instantly shot Peter a look of warning, though there's nothing he could do to amend his statement.

And just like Toby feared, it was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Spencer felt the tears slide down her face, silently, biting her lip to keep from hiccupping.

Her reaction caught all three of the people in the room by surprise. "Spencer," Her mother sighed.

"Honey-"

But she shook her head away from both her parents and turned towards the only person she would allow to comfort her.

Toby automatically wrapped his arms around her, and began murmuring soothing words, but he couldn't even focus on what was coming out of his own mouth, the concern he felt for her well-being tenfolding.

When her tears lasted more than twenty minutes, he started to panic. "Baby," He murmured into her hair. "What is it?" Why did her father's words upset her so drastically that she went into complete catatonic misery?

She didn't react to his words. Not even faintly. She was growing unresponsive and the thought chilled the three people surrounding her to the core.

The two lawyers started speaking, making no effort to keep their voices down. Evidently they thought she was already too out of it to understand as they shouted, "What the hell is going on with her? Why is she getting worse? What's happening?"

Toby knew that wasn't true, knew she could still hear everything they said and he wrapped his arms tighter around her, hoping to protect her from the desperate pleas of her parents.

They weren't trying to be cruel or make anything worse for their daughter but they were. They were making everything harder and heavier to carry and Toby, more than anything, wanted them to get lost.

He knew it was selfish, as Spencer needed her parents right now but he couldn't help but think she may be better off without their presence.

When Spencer was still crying an hour later, he pulled her into his lap. He didn't expect her to react to the movement but, at the readjustment, she wrapped her arms around his neck and burrowed as far into him as humanly possible. It was the first responsive thing she had done in an hour and it gave him almost as much relief as her tears gave him heartbreak.

Her dad saw the exchange too and audibly sighed, slugging down further into his chair. "Thank God." He scrubbed his hand across his face miserably, rubbing his jaw.

She slept in Toby's arms for the rest of the night. He held her for the three and a half hours it took until her tears dried up, and then until she lost consciousness. He contemplated putting her back against the pillows but decided against it, too afraid of waking her up. Any sleep she got, any escape from her reality, was something entirely too precious to him to be risked.

"I love you," He whispered against her skin, pressing his lips to her forehead, her temple, the shell of her ear. "I love you so much."

* * *

It came as no surprise to Toby that Spencer wasn't much better in the morning. She woke up, still curled up against her boyfriend, groggy and languid. She didn't meet eye contact with him or her parents. She made no move to separate her limbs from Toby's. And she didn't say a single word.

It wasn't a shock, but it still terrified him.

If he was scared the night before, he was fucking petrified now.

He attempted to keep it together the best he could, mask his fear, for her sake if nothing else. The last thing she needed was someone making her burden any heavier to carry.

Her parents weren't on the same wavelength as him. When she woke up and said nothing, did nothing, reacted to nothing, they went ballistic.

They began to pace, rant, yell-at each other and not their daughter, thank God. Dr. Barnes was called in an hour prior to his shift, just by demand of the Hastings.

The doctor entered, slowly, cautiously, like walking into a lion's den. His eyes fell on Spencer, still seated on Toby's lap and most of his hesitance went away.

Dr. Barnes slowly made his way over to them, taking his time to measure the girl up for size.

"Spencer," He addressed directly.

She barely responded. It was only a slight acknowledgment, a mere raising her eyes to meet contact with the medical professional's. But it was something. It was more than anyone expected.

"Baby?" Toby murmured to her, pushing her hair out of her face.

"What?" She finally whispered, her voice raspy and rough.

The relief this brought him was palpable. The relief of hearing her voice, in any form, made him weak in the knees and brought tears to his eyes.

Before he could second guess himself, his lips pressed against her's, urgently, hungrily, desperately. He pressed one, two, three kisses to her lips and his heart skipped a beat when he felt her smile against his mouth.

When he pulled back, still entirely astounded, she let a chuckle escape from her throat. It was as husky as her voice had been but it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard and his lips found her face again.

Her parents were just as relieved as Toby. "Spencer," Veronica sighed, letting out the breath she'd been holding for almost nine hours.

The brunette just looked down, near her mother's feet, silence overtaking her once again. Toby wanted to muzzle her parents for stunting any progress, when Spencer finally said, "Sorry."

Her eyes scanned both her mother and then her father's faces, as her response, short and sweet, sunk into the room.

Remorse overtook both parents features, as it was displayed clear as day just how much self-loathing they induced in her, even when she was nearly out of her mind with grief.

Dr. Barnes asked a few more basic questions before concluding that there was nothing dissociative about her, that she was purely overwhelmed and equally exhausted. Emotionally, mentally, physically.

Both Veronica and Peter walked the doctor out, wanting to profusely thank him for coming so quickly, and to talk privately about what else could be going on with her and further treatment plans.

Spencer and Toby both knew that their plans would not include her leaving the hospital any time soon. Toby's pleading on her behalf yesterday had essentially been invalidated by her episode. No way would the hospital let anyone in such a fragile mental state out.

Spencer didn't want to voice it, didn't want to get confirmation from her boyfriend about what they both knew was true.

The only reason she had not been shifted to the psyche ward was because the lacerations on her face and body were still pronounced enough that the doctors could justify keeping her.

The thought sent a tremor down Spencer's back and Toby instinctively held her tighter.

He studied her face for a long moment. With her parents out of the room, her guard slipped down unconsciously, allowing Toby to see what they could not.

She was absolutely petrified. She was afraid of what would happen if she couldn't remember. Would she be here, in this hospital, forever? Would she be moved to the mental hospital Charlotte stayed in for five years? Would she always live with this weighing down on her? Could she ever get back to a semi-normal life?

But she was so much more terrified of what would happen if she did remember. Would she go insane? Would she lose it completely and crack? What if what happened was too awful for her to remember? What if it ruined her entire life? What if it cost her Toby?

She was growing more and more restless, beyond desperate to leave the hospital. She'd never in her life, barring her kidnapping five years prior, felt so much like a caged animal.

She'd never felt so insane either, not even in her time at Radley. She'd never felt so out of control or futile or frustrated.

The thoughts weren't getting any easier for her to process and she felt like she might explode soon, erupt into a thousand tiny pieces, if something didn't change. She didn't know how to calm down in these circumstances, with this insurmountable amount of stress and pain weighing down on her.

Toby felt his chest ache raw as he looked at her face. She didn't deserve this, to have this added to her shoulders. Spencer was inarguably the strongest person he'd ever met, hands down. She handled everything with bravery and selflessness. She loved with all her heart and put the people she cared about's wellbeing far above her own. She sacrificed for those she loved. She held in all her own issues, at expense of her own being, in order to keep from burdening others.

But this was too much for even Spencer to carry. What had happened, what was happening, was too much for anyone to carry. And for some reason, it didn't compute in her parents' brains to put their daughter over their own emotions.

He wished, just once, that she'd let him in. Completely in. That instead of withdrawing into herself, that she'd allow him to carry this burden for her.

He, at this point, wanted any distraction he could get from what was currently going on. Any distraction possible from the biting, aching, grief he felt. From the roaring inside that told him he was an absolutely horrifying person or that everything that had happened was all his fault.

He knew, in some ways, it was true.

His lips met her forehead, lingering there for seconds longer than necessary. "I wish I could make it go away," He whispered wistfully. "All of it."

He didn't expect her to respond, especially not right away. "It's never going away, Toby." Her voice was husky and hoarse and it brought tears to his eyes once again.

He'd do anything to make her feel better. Anything at all. He'd chop off his left arm at this point if it healed her.

He was a fixer. They both knew it, even if they'd never explicitly said so.

He'd tried to fix Spencer's life years ago when it came to -A. He'd joined both the -A team, donned a black hoodie and sent out disturbing messages. He'd stood by while the girl he loved with all his heart fell to pieces before his very eyes. He'd joined the Rosewood police force, the most corrupt police force he'd ever heard of. He'd put a distance between him and Spencer, even when it twisted his insides until he felt physically ill. He'd almost ruined their relationship by making her believe he'd fallen out of love with her. All to try and end her nightmare. All to try and fix her life.

But he couldn't fix this. He couldn't make this any better. He, once again, was completely and utterly powerless and it _broke_ him.

How was he supposed to stand by and watch her suffer? He'd seen her go through hell before and it never ended pretty. He wasn't Caleb, he wasn't satisfied with following her around like a puppy dog.

Something both him and Spencer had in common was they had a desperate need to always take action, always be on the offensive, always protect those they loved.

Maybe that was why they always butted heads.

If Spencer had been well enough, if he'd been strong enough to walk out that door without her, he would have thrown himself headfirst into the case already. He would have committed every second of the day to find out who'd kidnapped Spencer and put her through hell. Who'd murdered all those people. Who'd hurt the girl he loved.

But he wouldn't leave Spencer alone. She needed him and, he wasn't even a little ashamed to admit, he needed her. More than water or air or sleep. He needed her presence right now. He needed to figure out a way for her to mend.

He loved her more than he even thought he was even capable of. Spencer was his entire world. She made everything else in his life seem okay. She made him feel things nothing else could and touched parts of his heart no one else could imagine reaching. They connected on a multitude of levels and, in all honesty, she was the best friend he'd ever had.

 _"Baby steps,"_ He recalled Dr. Barnes saying to him days back. _"She isn't going to miraculously recover from this in one day. Trauma like this… it takes time for the wounds inflicted to start mending. Even then, it's a long and harrowing journey. Take it one day at a time. One day, every day."_

As he gazed at her now, still curled up on his lap, he wracked his brain for anything he could do to make her feel better.

_"Can you at least remove the needles so I can shower?"_

Her words to Dr. Barnes played in his head. She'd wanted to be able to shower so badly, but had been shot down repeatedly.

Any needle or wire hooked up to her had been removed after her episode. She may be too weak to stand on her own for an extended period of time but somehow, Toby felt he could offer assistance.

"Hey, babe, you remember how you wanted to shower a couple days ago?'

She gave him a sardonic look. "Do I smell?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "I just had an idea."

* * *

"Can't believe I didn't think of this sooner," Spencer grumbled, though they both knew her complaining was only half serious. Getting out bed, getting to shower-with Toby, no less-was Christmas to her at this point.

"You've had a lot on your mind," Toby reminded her over his shoulder, still testing the water with his hand.

"Remember that time my dad showed up at your loft and almost caught us showering together?" She mused, her spirits lifting by the minute.

He let out a laugh from the bottom of his stomach. ''I recall running downstairs naked, soaking wet and in a towel, to be greeted by your father."

"Well I was in _your_ underwear so who had it worse, really?"

Toby flicked her with water. "Me," He laughed. "He's your dad. He's seen you in your underwear before."

" _My_ underwear, though!" She shot back, beaming at him.

He was extraordinarily grateful he'd had this idea. Spencer's mood was lighter than it'd been since she'd been admitted into the hospital, _period_. Though he knew her troubles had nothing to do with him, that she claimed he was just about the only thing in her life that was making it better, he still felt responsible. Like if he couldn't make her happy, he was a failure.

"Alright," He walked back over to her. "Arms up."

She allowed him to strip her down, realizing only after that this was the first time he'd seen her naked in three years.

The thought made her flush and instinctively reach to cover when she felt him kneel down in front of her, connecting their bodies. His lips made contact with her shoulder, pressing kiss after kiss to her bare skin.

He didn't notice her embarrassment, or maybe he did and he was trying to make her comfortable, but it worked. Within seconds, just like how it'd always happened, she was melting into him, her forehead against his bare chest. "Beautiful," He whispered into her, his lips moving down to her chest, right above her heartbeat. "So beautiful."

She flushed again, but this time for entirely different reasons.

He lifted her up, without breaking their embrace, holding her in front of him, the way he'd always had. The way she was accustomed to being held.

He didn't try to set her down, didn't even seem to struggle under her weight, as he stepped into the tall, slick, hospital shower.

She sighed in pleasure as he set her under the shower head, feeling the hot water-scalding hot, just the way he knew she liked it-pound down her back.

Toby pushed her hair back behind her shoulders, ensuring it would all get soaked thoroughly.

She turned her head to kiss his hand as it lingered against her shoulder, closing her eyes, gratitude seeping into every contact her lips made with his skin.

"Thank you," She murmured again, so quietly, so desperately and he nearly cried. Why didn't he do this sooner?

It hit him how easy it was for him to give her solace, however temporary, when there was no one else around to mess with her head. No matter how unintentional it was, or however much her parents loved her, they inevitably made everything harder, put exorbitant amounts of pressure on her, and forced her to withdraw into herself.

Toby knew they loved her. He also knew that they didn't completely understand her and how her brain worked. She was different from them and they seemed to resent every divergence there was. That didn't mean they didn't love her. But they weren't always good for her.

He didn't want to be pretentious enough to believe he was better for her than her own parents but it was hard not to notice the differences from when it was just the two of them and when they were joined by the Hastings. How she relaxed easier and smiled wider. How she spoke more often and without the constant resentment and frustration. How when she was upset, she held onto him. How his presence alone made her stronger.

Their eyes met as Spencer grabbed the bar of soap-somewhat shakily though neither of them seemed to notice. Wordlessly, she pressed it into his palms and he was flooded once more with how implicitly she trusted him.

He began to softly work the bar over her shoulders, chest and back. When he'd lathered her long enough, felt her soft, silky skin underneath his calloused fingertips, he moved onto her stomach, dropping to his knees and then going lower.

He pressed his lips to her stomach when he was done, underneath her belly button four times before standing back up and taking her with him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her back up, her legs wrapped around his waist, no barriers between them.

She rested her forehead against his, their eyelashes nearly touching. "I love you," She whispered into his mouth as their lips met.

He didn't respond verbally. Instead he let his tongue do the talking, mingling it with her's.

She arched her back, her chest pressed so tightly against his, her entire weight still being supported by him.

When she started thrusting her hips into his, he pulled back though. "Spencer," He whispered, moving his mouth to press kisses against her soft, porcelain cheek instead. "Let's not… It just doesn't feel right-"

She cut him off, releasing her limbs from around him instantly. "Yeah," She nodded quickly, jumping down too fast and giving herself a minor head rush. "You're right, I don't know what I was thinking," She continued, clearly embarrassed.

Toby felt his chest throb again. "Spence, no," He shook his head rapidly, desperately trying to correct her before her insecurities could totally take over her mind. "I want you." He grasped her hand in his, guiding it lower. "Trust me, I want to do this." To his relief, she shut her eyes, laughing. "But I'm not comfortable doing this until you're well again. Well enough that we're not sneaking around the bathroom to take a shower before your parents come back."

He waited for her to say something else, say she understood his hesitation. He was a sexual abuse survivor and they both knew it fueled a lot of his hesitation in this area. While she implicitly trusted him to never take advantage of her, he wouldn't initiate anything romantic if he even felt there was a sliver of possibility of that being the case.

Instead of words, Spencer wrapped her thin arms around his neck, pushing both their naked bodies against once more. She leaned up and kissed his cheek delicately.

"This is why I trust you so much," She whispered, barely audible, into his skin. "This is why I trust you with my whole entire heart.

A half hour later, Spencer was situated back into her hospital bed, dressed in a fresh paper gown and damp hair.

She was reclined back, sound asleep, much to Toby's delight. The shower, no matter how soothing or necessary it was, had worn her out. She was still regaining her strength and still needing pain medications. Any long-term standing caused her great fatigue.

Toby touched her cheek with the back of his hand, feeling her angel smooth skin over and over again. His heart was consumed with her. Her smiles, her laughs, her teasing, her wit, her brains, all of it brought to him more joy than he'd felt in a long time. Just to see her happy made it easier for him to breathe, made it easier for him to be there for her, to be anything she needed him to be.

He knew when her parents returned, likely within the hour, she would most likely go downhill again.

Something about them triggered toxicity in her.

Toby felt the wheels in his head begin to turn and before he could even stop them, he was forming a new plan. One that he may not have gone through with if it wasn't for his love for the girl in the bed. All he wanted was for her to be okay. He'd do anything for that.

He had to believe that her parents felt the same.

* * *

"This is ludicrous!" Veronica hissed, barely able to keep her voice down. "She cannot leave the hospital now! Not after everything that's happened-"

"Do you really think this place is helping her?" Toby pushed, his voice not wavering for a second. "She is only getting worse here. Let me take her home, get her settled and take care of her. Okay, you don't have to do a thing. You can both," His gaze snapped to Peter and then back to Veronica, "go back to your jobs and back to your lives."

"Toby," Peter heaved out a heavy sigh. "This has got to be the most ridiculous plan I have ever heard."

"Do you think it's helping her to see you and your wife struggle with this every day? To watch as this eats away at you two? Or to see you two grow impatient for her to get better so you can get back to normal?" Toby considered for a second that he'd over stepped too far and the older man would lash out but instead, remorse filled Peter's eyes. He knew the young cop was right. "Please, just give this a chance, Mr. Hastings. I promise I can help her-"

"And what if you can't?" Dr. Barnes challenged. "What if she unravels and you can't get through to her? Are you prepared to put her back in the hospital, the psychiatric unit even, if need be?"

"Yes," Toby promised without hesitation. "I swear, I will."

The doctor turned to Veronica, clearly not permitting this until she was on board. "Toby, what if she gets even worse? You're twenty-four, you have a job of your own, you're not equipped to handle this-"

"I'm currently suspended so that job won't be keeping me away," He informed lightly. He quickly moved on before this could count as a strike against him. "And I may be twenty-four but I was fourteen when my mom got sick. I have a lot of experience with things like this." Veronica went silent at his words, watching him swallow a lump in his throat. "Mrs. Hastings, you know me," He whispered, his voice edging on begging despite knowing how little that would work in his favor with the Hastings. "You know I would never do something that I thought would hurt Spencer. I would never risk her wellbeing."

Veronica's gaze softened then. "I know, honey," She conceded before looking between Peter and the doctor. "They'd be staying with us," She stated, and it was as good as a yes.

Peter stared at her like she'd gained another head. "You can't be serious, Veronica-"

"Peter!"

Their hushed bickering continued, but Toby didn't stick around to hear it. The second he got the answer he wanted he rushed back into the hospital room to find his beautiful, brunette girlfriend sitting up in bed. She threw her arms around his neck, a smile on her face larger than anything he'd seen in what felt like years.

"Thank you," She breathed into his shirt, as if he had done it as an act of charity. As if the grin on her face wasn't reward enough. Seeing her happy these days was like winning the lottery to him.

"You don't have to thank me, Spence," He whispered into her hair, pressing a kiss there.

"You're giving me what I've been asking for, for days," She exclaimed softly, pulling back to rest her forehead against his.

"I'd give you the moon and all the stars if I thought it'd help you get better."

She didn't respond to his words. Instead, she began to cover his face with kisses. "Thank you!" She murmured blissfully. "Thank you! Thank you so much, babe."

Toby felt a smile that rivaled the size of her's spread across his face. He leaned forward, burying his head into where her neck met shoulder as she continued to kiss everything in her reach.

She was still doing that, pressing her lips everywhere to him, continuing her thank you mantra, when her parents joined them.

The smile on her face didn't evaporate when she saw them, the light was restored to her eyes and suddenly, both her parents knew that allowing her to return to their house with Toby may be the best decision they'd made in a long time.

* * *

She hated this, she hated how seeing her best friend felt like a jab to the gut with a knife. She hated that they'd allowed this to happen, allowed a gap the size of Caleb Rivers to come between their supposedly unbreakable friendship, allowed both their feelings to cloud their judgment, allowed him almost entirely off the hook for his part in this.

Spencer didn't love Caleb. Not like she thought she did. But it didn't change the sting of betrayal that she felt every time she thought of her blonde friend with him. She had been burned by two people she'd cared deeply for and somehow, she ended up being the odd one out.

And she hated them for it. Completely, entirely, spitefully, from the inside out, she _hated_ them. Individually as people, together as a couple, it didn't matter. They were two people she didn't care if she ever saw again.

And yet, now they were both right in front of her.

Ever the lady, Spencer decided to forego all greetings. "Hanna," She called, walking up to her and the dark haired boy who'd been her's last week. "Where's Jordan?" She asked, raising her eyebrows innocently.

Behind her, both Aria and Emily lost color in their faces, both mentally face palming for even telling Alison this party was a good idea.

Hanna kept her cool though, matching the sass in Spencer's voice. "I'm here with Caleb, Spence. Geez, keep up!" She taunted. "Didn't you hear? He traded up girlfriends."

Spencer envisioned her hands wrapped around her best friend's throat and part of her, somewhere in her brain, felt sad at how far they'd fallen, all over a useless guy, who they both knew deep down, didn't deserve either of them.

Caleb, who looked like he was about three seconds from soiling himself, unwrapped Hanna's arm from around his waist. The blonde looked up murderously at the public rejection as he quickly spit out, "I'm gonna go to get the cupcakes."

All four girls watched him hurry out of the house, a sight almost comical to everyone but Hanna, who now practically had smoke coming out of her ears.

She channeled all her anger at the brunette in front of her. "So, who are you here with?" She derided.

"Not a coward," Spencer smiled condescendingly. "That's for sure."

"Not anyone," Hanna corrected, matching her smile. "That's for sure."

Seeing that neither girl was ready to make nice, Emily, ever the peacemaker, stepped forward, into the line of fire. "Han, why don't you go help in the kitchen?" She gave the blonde a little push when she didn't move from her spot. "I'm sure Ali really needs help," She added, staring expectantly at her until the blonde sighed, rolled her eyes dramatically and conceded. She made a point in bumping shoulders with Spencer as she dragged her feet into the next room.

"Spence," Emily started, her voice even and sympathetic.

"Don't start," The brunette snapped harshly.

The tanner friend didn't recoil, evidently anticipating this reaction. "Let me drive you home," She pleaded. When Spencer began to protest, she quickly continued, "I know it's difficult to see Hanna with Caleb. I understand how much that must hurt right now-"

"Yeah," Aria chimed in, attempting too, to look incredibly understanding, though it came off placating. "We totally get it, Spence."

Spencer hated it. The way the two girls were looking at her made her feel like she was being pacified or handled with child gloves.

"We'd probably feel the same way," Emily assured before Spencer cut her off.

"I am not hurting over Caleb," She insisted, bitingly.

"It'd be natural for you to be hurt," The raven haired friend insisted.

Spencer shut her eyes for a beat, before a somber smile crossed her lips. "Em-"

"It'd be totally natural for it to hurt to see them together-"

"I. Lost. Toby," Spencer spit out, emphasizing every word.

Both Emily and Aria's eyes widened, completely caught off guard by the admission. "What?" Aria whispered, stunned, her eyebrows knitting together.

The lean brunette didn't speak for a minute, clearly collecting the thoughts in her own head. "I would give up everything to go back in time and fix my relationship with him," She finally stated, her voice strong, looking both girls dead in the eyes. "I loved him more than I will ever love anything, in this life, and I managed to let him go. Losing Caleb is nothing in comparison to that."

Emily stared back at her, rendered completely speechless. There wasn't a response to what she had just said.

But Aria was looking behind her, at something else. Something important enough that it trumped her speech.

Spencer turned around and was met with her own worst nightmare.

Behind her stood Hanna, Alison, Ezra, Caleb and _Toby._

Her chocolate brown eyes met wide, staggered, piercingly blue eyes and Spencer felt the beginning of a panic attack about to come on.

His eyes were so expressive and yet, she couldn't quite read them. There was so much love and compassion and desire in his gaze. But it was mixed with remorse and shock and reluctance and she mentally prepared herself for the rejection of a lifetime.

What she didn't, couldn't, have prepared herself for, though it really came as no surprise, was for Toby to bolt.

He was out the door within a minute of her confession and she couldn't stop the liquid salt running down her face as she watched the person she loved most in this world turn his back and leave her behind.

* * *

Spencer jolted awake, flying up in bed. Her heart continued to race in her chest, her head pounded harshly, unforgivingly, for a few seconds. Finally she slowly leaned back into the bed, resting against the thin pillows again.

It was three hours after midnight and everyone was dead asleep. Her mother was asleep in her usual chair by her bed, her father was passed out across the room, almost entirely out of view. And Toby lay unconscious in a chair right next to her bed, opposite side her mom, scooted up by her head.

They both wished he could be in the bed _with_ her but neither could get past just how awkward that'd be with Veronica right next to them.

"Toby," She whispered loudly, as she shook his arm, attempting to wake no one but him. "Tobes, wake up."

"Huh?" He murmured groggily, barely raising his head up.

"Wake up, I had a dream. Or a flashback. Or something."

Her words, no matter how light they seemed to her, instantly opened his eyes and caused him to be alert. "Did you remember something?" He asked, his tone bordering between hopeful and anxious.

"Yeah, but it wasn't bad. It wasn't about th-the massacre."

Toby raised his eyebrows, nodding slightly. "What did you remember?" He asked apprehensively.

"Alison's party." At her words, Toby's mouth fell open. Evidently he did not expect this memory to come back to her and she noticed just how his face adorably turned pinker.

"Oh," He finally said, unable to meet eye contact now. "Di-did you remember…" He trailed off, struggling to conjure up the right phrasing.

"Did I remember, what?" Spencer asked, twitching her eyebrows. "Fighting with Hanna, declaring my love for you or you running out?" The cop let out a sigh buried deep inside his lungs. "It's okay," She assured after a minute, reaching for his hand. He gave it, no hesitation, but when their eyes met, his were still full of remorse.

"I'm so sorry that I bolted," Toby finally said, shaking his head at his own actions. "It was the most immature and-"

"Tobes," She gave his hand a tight squeeze, one side of her mouth lifting in a half smile. "It's okay. There was no proper reaction to what I said." It was his turn to smirk now, his eyes filling with adoration as her words from the party hit him all over again. "Did you really hear what I said? Word for word, verbatim?'"

He nodded, his smile growing bigger. "It was the last thing I ever expected to hear," He chuckled.

Spencer let out a small mortified laugh to match his. "I bet," She mumbled, her eyes shifting to the blanket in her lap.

Toby noticed immediately. "I can't tell you what it-I felt…" He struggled with his words. "I don't think I ever loved someone more than I did in that moment."

This caught her by surprise. "Yeah?"

He nodded, his smile never fading. He was looking at her, she thought, like she cured cancer. "No one talks about me like you do," He continued. "No one loves me like you do." A smile formed on her lips now. That was how she felt about _him_.

But she was Spencer Hastings, and she always had questions racing through her mind. Blissful ignorance wasn't how her brain was wired. She asked the questions, no one, not even her, wanted to ask. "Then why did you run out?" She asked quietly.

Toby's face fell once again, remorse creeping its way back in. "I just couldn't stay there after that. After you said that, it became abundantly clear to me that I was on the wrong path. If I hadn't ran out when I did . . . because I knew that… the way you made me feel… If I would have stayed, I wouldn't have been able to control myself. I would have kissed you-"

"And you didn't want to cheat on Yvonne," She finished for him, connecting the dots now.

"I'm so sorry, baby," He whispered, bringing her hand up to his lips now. His eyes were filled with so much grief, so much contrition, it made her want to cry.

Still, she had more questions than answers and she needed to get some things straight in her head. The things she easily could, that is. "When did you and Yvonne break up?"

It hadn't escaped her noticed that up to now, Toby avoided any mention of Yvonne. Maybe it meant nothing, but it was peculiar to her.

She hadn't pressed the matter though. It could be the fact that the name had sent her into a hysterical frenzy when she had barely woken from her coma, but something about speaking of Toby's ex sent a chill down her back.

She knew her own insecurities were more than a factor in her avoidance. Toby had been ready to _marry_ this girl. She had all of Spencer's good qualities with none of her bad. She was beautiful and poised and smart and bubbly. She was beloved among the town and she seemed to adore Toby. She had probably never lied to him or forced him into a personal dilemma or used him as an emotional punching bag. She definitely didn't put him at stake every day, along with his job. She had a family that accepted him as their own, no judgment or dysfunction or expectations.

Spencer, herself, felt Yvonne was a _huge_ upgrade.

Toby's words knocked out of her self-destructive thoughts. "That same night."

The brunette snapped her head up in disbelief. "What?"

"Yvonne and I broke up the night of Alison's party," He repeated, looking her dead in the eye now.

Her hand, still joined in his, went dead as she processed this new information.

An irrational part of her had worried that they _hadn't_ broken up at all, despite knowing Toby was the most honest person she'd ever known. But knowing that while she was being kidnapped and tortured, witnessing unspeakable acts, Toby was dumping his girlfriend? That was too overwhelming for Spencer to even wrap her head around.

The breakup had to be pretty brutal, for Toby to still look so sad when mentioning it. She mentally berated herself. No matter how strong his feelings may be for Spencer, he truly did love Yvonne. She knew that was undeniable.

She felt a lump form in her throat and she tried as hard as she could to swallow it down without Toby noticing.

The last thing she wanted him to see was how hard it was for her to process the idea of him loving anyone else. It had been hard enough for her to watch Toby fight for Yvonne's honor after the leak. She hated admitting that it broke a piece of her heart to know that he could have such strong feelings for another girl.

Part of her, the more rational part, knew that Toby could just be having a hard time with the fact that Yvonne was hurting. Inevitably, she was going to be upset that Toby went back to his ex.

And Toby couldn't stand the idea of hurting anyone. Even the people who most deserved it, herself included. He was too pure of heart to swallow seeing anyone in pain.

His words, once again, broke the silence. "That's why I left," He added, still looking at her, never breaking focus. "I left the party after your confession because I knew then, that I needed to break up with her."

Spencer stared at him, speechless. Which was an anomaly within in itself.

Spencer Hastings always had something to say.

When she didn't respond, he continued, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. "The way I feel about you… it was wrong that I even allowed my relationship with her to go on as long as I did… But I didn't know how to end it. And I can be a real coward sometimes." Spencer shook her head silently, adamantly denying his words. "I drove around Rosewood for hours. I was just…trying to clear my head. I wound up at Yvonne's parents' house. And I ended up telling her the truth."

"The truth?" Spencer whispered, her eyebrows furrowing. Her voice sounded raspier than even usual.

"That I love you. That I love her too, but it just…didn't compare."

The brunette in the hospital bed looked down, taking in his words. She found a shard of relief in them, but she was unsure where.

"Was she upset?" She asked after a minute.

Toby nodded slowly, his eyes now trained on the ground. "Really upset. Or angry, I guess is a better description."

"So I should probably avoid her at the supermarket then?"

Her attempt to lighten the mood went clear over the cop's head. He took another deep breath but it didn't seem to help him a bit.

"Toby," Spencer said, her tone soft and gentle, squeezing his hand. His eyes wouldn't meet her's but she could see, even from her angle, they were full of self-loathing and she ached, just like she always did, at the notion he was hurting at all. "What happened wasn't your fault."

His head snapped up so fast, she thought for a second he was going to give himself whiplash.

She ached inside, knowing just how deeply his guilt ran when he'd inflicted pain on others. She was jealous at times that he had such a pure heart, that he could be so untainted by the crippling tragedies that he'd lived through, but she also was abundantly grateful that she wasn't forced to suffer so tremendously for things so small.

"It wasn't your fault Yvonne got hurt," She continued, praying she could get that look out of his eyes. "You tried as hard as you could not to hurt her. You really did," She promised, giving his hand one more squeeze. "Sometimes things happen though. And people get hurt unintentionally. But it doesn't make you a bad person, okay?" His expression calmed, but the self-hatred was still prevalent. "One day, Yvonne is going feel about someone the way you and I feel about each other."

His expression was still so heart wrenching, so forlorn, but before she could find anything else to say, anything else to try and ease his conscious, he moved out of his chair, and sat on the edge of her bed.

His eyes were softer now, warmer and she recognized in them the reverence he held for her. She waited for him to say something more, but instead of words, he leaned down and kissed her lips.

It was tender and soft and grateful, all mixed together. He tasted like cinnamon and sawdust and leather and she wanted to never let go.

He pulled back, only to move his lips to her forehead, lingering there for seconds longer than necessary.

"I love you, Spencer," He breathed into her skin, pressing his lips to her face again. "I love you so much."

* * *

Before she could riffle through her over clogged up brain and ask any more questions, Toby changed the subject.

He smoothed her hair back from her face. "I'm sorry again, that I ran out," He murmured quietly and it became clear to her then that Yvonne wasn't the only one he felt guilty about hurting. "I wish I would have just cheated on Yvonne."

His confession caught her off guard. Toby Cavanaugh was the last person she ever expected to cheat. It went against everything in his nature to do so.

"Toby-"

He swiftly cut her off. "I wish I had just soldered myself to your side that night. That way no one could have hurt you."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "It wouldn't have made a difference," She insisted gently.

He shook his head. "You got hurt, Spence, because I failed to protect you. I let my own emotions force me to leave and I put-"

"You need to stop," She interrupted. Her expression was awed but her tone was stern. "You are not at fault for anything that happened to me and you are not at fault for hurting Yvonne." He didn't look comforted by her assertion. "Toby, everything is going to be okay."

They both knew that was a blatant lie, that whoever was after her had committed a heinous crime, that she had a huge missing gap in her memory and that her mental health was up in the air.

But somehow, she still ended up being the one to promise him that all would turn out alright. Their roles were completely flipped and he didn't know what exactly to think about it.

Still, he couldn't help teasing her. "Getting the doctor to agree to release you really did wonders for your outlook, huh?"

She gave him a sardonic look. She wasn't letting him change the subject again. "You didn't choose Yvonne over me by running out," She stated. "You didn't know what would happen."

Her words hit him like a dump truck. And not entirely in the way she intended.

Spencer thought this would relieve his guilt but, instead, it seemed to triple it. His eyebrows were pushing together, he had a crease denting into his forehead and his mouth was turned down as if he had just received bad news.

"Baby," She whispered, her hands reaching up to rest on his shoulders. "Stop blaming yourself," She commanded softly.

He gave her a half smile but didn't look her in the eye. "Toby," She whispered again and it was eerily familiar, eerily parallel to the night in the motel room when she found out he was alive, all those years ago.

All those years between the two nights, all the more damage done between the two of them, and yet, the two moments couldn't have looked more similar.

Her palms slid up to cup his face, soothingly. She, with as little force as possible, turned his face and made him to meet eye contact. "You're far too pure for his world," She breathed into his face, tugging him closer so that his forehead was resting against her's. She felt his nose rubbing against her own, their eyelashes nearly intercepting and their lips only a centimeter apart.

His eyes, the most expressive things she could retain in her memory, were so heartbroken, were so deep in regret and desolation, and for the first time since they reconciled, Spencer felt a distance between them. They were as physically close as humanly possible and yet, there was something running through his mind that she couldn't fix, she couldn't alleviate.

He was a fixer but so was she. And the fact that there was something inside both of them that the other couldn't fix, made the other's heart ache.

When you love someone you're supposed to be able to fix anything. At least, that was the rule they'd both always lived by.

Only now that seemed impossible.


	9. Chapter Nine

"Okay, but that nurse really has it out for me," Hanna insisted.

"Han," Emily started again, trying to control her laughter. She was doing a better job than Spencer, who was cracking up in her hospital bed next to them.

"Okay, but she said what about your bra?" The brunette pressed again, wanting a reiteration.

"She keeps saying my boobs are inappropriate for other patients to see," the usually perky blonde complained.

Emily rolled her eyes. "Maybe if you wore something underneath-" The door the hospital room creaked open and instantly, all three girls forgot about the crabby nurse and Hanna's altercation.

Toby said nothing as he re-entered the room, oblivious to the three pairs of eyes that had fallen on him. The cop unwrapped a chocolate bar, that looked stale and decrepit, and ate a third of it in one bite.

"Babe, where'd you get that?" Spencer asked, disdain dripping in her tone.

"The vending machine down the hall," he replied simply, the corner of his mouth raising slightly, aware of her disgust for overly processed food. At her expression, he walked closer to her bed, holding it out towards her. "Do you want a bite?" He teased.

She batted it away, rolling her eyes. "That's disgusting," she echoed his words when she showed up with cronuts on his doorsteps, smiling now in spite of herself.

He returned the grin. "I just couldn't handle another meal at the cafeteria."

Instantly, Spencer filled with contrition. "You don't have to eat here, Tobes," she insisted. "You can go-"

"I'm not leaving you any more than I have to," he interrupted, his voice unyielding. "I'll eat hospital leftovers before it comes to that."

She gave him a look but let the conversation go, turning back to her friends on the opposite side.

"Hey," Hanna said slyly after a beat. "Could I get a bite of that chocolate bar, Toby?"

The cop shifted uncomfortably before breaking off a piece on the opposite end and handing it to the blonde.

"Where's Aria?" Spencer asked, changing the subject.

"With Ezra," Emily stated, deadpan.

"What else is new?" Hanna asked sighing, not even bothering to keep her voice down. Spencer chuckled, not disagreeing there. "She's always with him," the blonde friend continued. "Always. Like, even when it's really, really important, she's off with Ezra, probably eating pie and suc-"

"Han!" Emily cut off. The tanner girl nudged her. "Give her a break. Whenever you're not here with Spencer, you're with Caleb." Toby made a face at the name mention.

"At least I know when it's important enough to show up!" Hanna exclaimed, wiping leftover chocolate off her mouth with her forearm.

"It's Aria," Spencer shrugged, letting it go.

"You really think that's enough of a reason?" Toby inquired quietly, mostly talking to Spencer.

"It is what it is. Besides, I'm mostly with you nowadays."

"You're in the hospital," Hanna instantaneously defended.

Spencer and Toby exchanged a look. "Were we planning in going our separate ways once I was released?" She asked him sarcastically.

"Evidently," he matched her tone.

"Okay, shut up, both of you," the blonde rolled her eyes dramatically. "When _are_ you being released anyway?"

"Hopefully soon." Spencer said quietly, aware that her release date was still currently undetermined. At the mention, her demeanor took a dive all over again.

"Hanna," Emily murmured under her breath. "We're here to cheer her up, not depress her."

"Sorry, accident!" Hanna hissed.

Toby's hand slipped under the rigid hospital sheets to rub her thigh, subtlety avoiding both their friends' notice. "How's Ali doing?" he asked, segueing to a new subject.

" _You're_ asking about Alison?" Spencer said in disbelief.

"I want to know how she's doing," the cop defended, slightly abashed that his girlfriend could see right through him. Both Hanna and Emily had the same skeptical expression on their faces, staring back at him. "What? I went to her welcome home dinner party, did I not?"

"That was only because I told you Spencer would be there," Emily refuted, smirking.

"Wait, what?" A grin spread across the hospitalized girl's face again.

"Okay," Toby held up his hand to end the conversation before literally face palming, regretting asking at all.

Hanna giggled as Emily began to answer his question. "She's still getting better at home. I don't know exactly what Rollins did to her but it wasn't pleasant. Jason has been with her since he flew home. Making sure she's alright and everything."

Spencer nodded as a nurse-the exact one Hanna detested-wheeled in a cart carrying a hospital breakfast.

"Good thing you guys called him."

"We didn't," Hanna corrected. "Your dad did. When you went missing."

That floored Spencer. "Wait, are you kidding? My dad asked Jason for help? He's never called him, ever-I didn't even know he had his phone number."

"He said he came and saw you a few days ago?"

"Yeah, once, but I slept through it."

"How? You sleep like a koala! Anything wakes you up."

"Han, koalas sleep a lot."

"I thought only half their brain went to sleep."

"That's a dolphin."

As they spoke, the crabby nurse rolled the food right up to Spencer's bedside, bumping Hanna in the process. "Ouch," she exclaimed, glaring at medical professional. "You totally did that on purpose-"

Evidently the blonde wasn't exaggerating when she said the nurse hated her. The elder woman cut her off swiftly and without a second thought. "Miss Hastings, your breakfast is here."

Emily passed the tray over onto a discontented Spencer's lap, as Toby smirked now. He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "You can just how excited you are to eat."

Spencer gave him a longing look. "Please go get me another rainbow bagel."

"I thought you said that crap was a waste of money and energy?"

"Suddenly, it seems so much more appetizing."

"I will go get you another bagel," he promised, chuckling. "But you should eat some of this first." She gave him a look of revulsion. "Come on, babe. Cowboy up."

She sighed, wrinkling up her nose but, as he said, cowboyed up and reached for an egg that looked more like yellow and white jello.

"Oh!" Hanna yelped, excitedly. "Can I have your orange juice?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "Han, just go down the hall and buy your own-"

"Go for it," Spencer offered without hesitation.

The light haired girl reached for it sloppily, reaching around Emily and across the bed. Her freshly manicured nails narrowly missed the cup and in a second's time, the orange juice spilled everywhere, racing down Spencer's chest and into her lap.

"You just spilled orange juice everywhere!" The nurse exclaimed, scolding Hanna like a defiant child.

_"Just hurry up and grab her," A nasally voice spat. "Her bony ass isn't that hard to pick up."_

_"Would you stop yelling at me?" A male demanded, gripping Spencer's forearms so tight it made her want to yelp._

_"If you would just do what you're suppos-" the voice had a very specific edge to it, a very unique tone. One that Spencer instantly recognized as familiar but couldn't place. "Damn it! Look what you made me do!"_

_"Why the hell did you just spill orange juice everywhere? It's on her now too."_

_"Because you're stressing me out!"_

_There was a sound, though she could barely make it out._

_Everything was so foggy, as if she were lying with her ears drowned in water or that moment between being asleep and awake._

_The only thing she could guess was one of them had slapped the other. Hard._

_The nasally voice let out a string of profanities, words so colorful they almost could paint a rainbow._

_She tried to ask them what they wanted, what they were doing. She wanted to know why she wasn't afraid or why she couldn't open her eyes._

_All that came out was a weak moan. "Damn it, she's waking up," the male hissed._

_"That's not possible! Didn't you drug her?"_

_"I don't know how much she drank! I can't control-"_

_"How much did you put in?"_

_"About what you told me to!"_

_"About?"_

_"A little bit more!"_

_"Damn it, you didn't overdose her, did you?"_

_"I don't know! Would she be waking up if she was overdosing?"_

_The nasally voice went silent for a minute, not responding to her male counterpart. "Just punch her," she finally commanded._

_The man nearly dropped Spencer from his arms. "Punch her?"_

_"Yes! Just hurry up and do it, okay? We don't have much time!"_

_"How hard?"_

_"Hard enough to knock her out until we can get to the building!"_

_The male cussed under his breath, shifting Spencer roughly. For a solid minute, there was no action, no sound, no movement. Until the nasally girl got fed up._

_"If you screw up this plan, he's going to kill you," she threatened._

_Evidently, this was enough motive to prompt him along._

_There was complete silence and then, unexpectedly, a brutal impact, directly to her eye. Spencer screamed out inside her head but couldn't elicit more than a weak gasp._

_"Harder! That didn't knock her out!"_

_"I'm trying!"_

_There was a beat and then shooting pain all over again. Her head flew with the punch and smack the ground beneath her._

_And then it all went pitch black._

* * *

The whole room was thrashing once again, spinning now in complete circles. She couldn't breathe, her chest was on fire and the room was twirling and she was flying and the ceiling was caving in and she wondered if this was what it felt like to have a bomb strapped to her chest.

Voices, of both medical workers and people she loved, called out, over and over again to her.

"Spencer, please!"

"Spence, it's okay. Just calm down."

"Spencer, take a deep breath."

"Honey, stop."

"Hold still, alright. I'll make this all go away."

But nothing calmed her, none of their words could reach her when she was buried so deep inside her own head, not until she heard one voice that easily distinguished from the rest. "Spencer," was all Toby whispered, but it was enough to pull her back.

His hands were on her, holding her shoulders as gently as possible. She gasped out, choking for oxygen, just like when this happened before.

"I can't breathe," she heaved.

Toby let go of her shoulders, pushing Hanna's hands off her arms. "Calm down," he whispered, guiding her trembling body closer. "Just calm down."

She struggled, still heaving as she allowed Toby to pull her into his arms, her head falling against his shoulder.

His hands rubbed her back gently, soothing her any way he knew how.

"Tob-Toby," she choked out, gagging as she spoke.

His arms grew tighter. "No one is going to hurt you, Spencer. Okay, I'm here now, I'm right here with you." She let out a strangled sob. "I'll protect you from _anything_ , I swear it."

She gagged again. "Toby."

"Just breathe, okay? It's alright, baby. You're with me now. Just breathe."

She felt like someone was strangling her, like there were large hands around her throat and she was being throttled.

"I'm here," he whispered directly in her ear as she retched again. His large hands were still rubbing her back in circles, relaxing her uncontrollably quivering limbs. "I'm here, Spence."

As her terror _began_ to seep away, her full senses started coming back to her. She wasn't even aware her ears had plugged until they popped, harshly, and she suddenly heard the doctor's voice.

"We need to sedate her," he directed to the nurse.

"Toby's helping her," Emily argued, both her and Hanna blocking the doctor's path.

"That may be but he isn't a doctor. When something like this occurs, she needs medical attention."

"If you two don't move," the same bitter, unpleasant nurse threatened. "I'll have all three of you banned from this hospital room."

"You know, what?" Hanna bellowed, her fuse short after witnessing firsthand just how much damage had been done to her best friend. "Toby has this under control better than any of your drugs or needles ever could. Maybe if this hospital wasn't so drug happy and you friggin doctors could pull your heads out of your asses, then, maybe just maybe, there wouldn't be so many shady people sneaking around this place. Maybe people wouldn't have access to private information and they wouldn't steal things they shouldn't, like drugs or corpses or-"

"Hanna!" Emily cut off, her eyes as wide as could be.

"Maybe if you people could get it together, then it wouldn't be so easy to sneak into the morgue."

"Hanna!" Both Emily and Toby yelled that time.

The cop sighed into Spencer's hair, rocking her back and forth as she buried her face deeper into his neck, exhaling for the first time in minutes.

"What was that supposed to mean?" The doctor asked, looking between the two girls and Toby. "Sneaking into the-"

"Just ignore Hanna," Toby insisted, gruffly.

"Hey," Emily said, crawling onto the bed, next to the couple. "She's calmed down."

"I told you, all she needed was a minute with Toby," Hanna muttered to the doctor and nurse.

Emily rubbed Spencer's back as Toby squeezed her even tighter, beyond what could possibly be physical comfortable, as if he thought he could actually hold together every fractured piece of her.

Every so often, she'd start gagging again, her chest heaving, the act of vomiting, but there was nothing inside her to expel. Toby planted kisses on her shoulder, holding her tighter.

Pretty soon, the only sounds left in the room was the brunette's loud, unsteady breathing. "Spence," Hanna whispered now, leaning over the bedside to touch her friend too.

Spencer shuttered out of reach, clinging only to Toby, her eyes still shut, burrowed deeper into him than either girl had ever witnessed before.

Long after she went quiet, after her panic had settled down, after the feeling that no matter where she turned, she was in immediate danger, had crept away, she swallowed hard and pried her head off Toby's shoulder.

"Hey, Spence," Emily greeted first, like her best friend had turned into a feral animal. She raised up a hand to touch the brunette's shoulder, transparently uncertain.

"Don't," Toby whispered when Spencer just stared at the darker girl, her expression growing defensive. "You can't treat her like she's mentally handicapped. She isn't. She's just scared. Treating her like she's a different person only pisses her off."

Spencer looked away, her eyes falling on the wall. Truth is, she didn't expect Emily or Hanna to grasp instantly how to approach her coming out of her panic. It had just never fully hit her how well Toby understood her, how much he knew about the inner workings of her mind, the things she'd never shared that he just got. It amazed her that, in spite of all the chaos surrounding her, she'd somehow managed to find the one person in this life that could read her like no other.

Sometimes, he felt like nothing short of an absolute miracle to her.

* * *

"Honey, I'm going to go get you another tray of food, alright?" The nurse, Nurse Jenkins she'd learned now, said.

Spencer shook her head, lethargically. "I don't-I mean… I'm not…" She swallowed hard and looked for Toby's eyes. His baby blues were her true anchor.

"It's okay, if you're not hungry, Spence," he assured when she didn't speak again. He lifted up her hands, which were folded tightly together, and brought them to his lips. "Whenever you are, I'll go get whatever you'd like-"

He couldn't even finish his sentence before she was shaking her head, faster now, rejecting the very idea, "God, please, don't leave. Please, Toby-"

"I won't, I won't!" He squeezed her hands in his much larger ones. "I promise you. We will do whatever you want us to do."

"All of us, Spence," Hanna swore, sitting down next to Emily on the bed. "We will do whatever you tell us."

Tears filled her eyes once more as she nodded now. "Thank you," she whispered.

Emily reached out to squeeze her arm now. "We're here for you. All of us, Aria and Alison included."

"Hell, probably even Mona included," Hanna snorted.

"Yeah, and Caleb too," Emily added.

Now Toby made a noise. "He can stay home."

His response, his blatant disdain for Caleb Rivers, broke a small portion of the barrier built up inside her, released a little bit of the tension still coursing through her veins and when she started to laugh, even Hanna cracked a smile.

Spencer leaned forward and grabbed Toby's face, planting a kiss on his cheek and then on his lips, still slightly laughing as two heavy sets of footsteps entered the hospital room.

"What the hell happened?" Peter spit out, before his daughter could even visibly see him.

"Mr. Hastings," the doctor greeted with a curt nod. He wasn't Dr. Barnes and until a couple minutes ago, Spencer had never seen him before in her life. The unfamiliarity caught the Hastings off guard too.

"Who're you?" Peter demanded.

"I'm Doctor Casanova."

"Yeah and that over there is Nurse Ratchet," Hanna muttered.

Emily nudged her before someone actually heard her. "Sweetie," Veronica stepped forward, coming closer to her daughter. "What happened?" Her eyes trailed to Toby, unsure if Spencer was in any shape to answer inquiries.

The lobbyist, the girl who spent her entire life trying to prove herself worthy to her parents, forced down the lump still lodged in her throat and tried to eloquently explain what'd occurred.

 _Tried_ , being the keyword. Words wouldn't form on her lips. She looked at her mother and all came out was a rickety, uneven breath. Toby's eyes filled with tender pain and he rubbed her leg in support. "She just had a panic attack."

"A panic attack or an episode?" Peter cut in, sharply, almost as if he didn't realize Spencer was actually present in the room.

"Was it a memory?" Her mother asked the cop and Spencer wanted so badly to tell her, to explain to her mom exactly what she'd seen, to make her mom and dad both understand why she was so fearful, so volatile, so unpredictable, so unstable.

Toby eyed her, almost apologetic, before simply answering, "Maybe."

"Well, did she-"

"Mom," Spencer choked out and it sounded like a cough. The older woman's head snapped towards her. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Mom, I can hear you."

"Honey," Veronica sighed, partially in relief, partially in fear. Of what, Spencer didn't even want to try and guess. "What happened? What did you remember?"

"I-" Once again, the brunette choked on her own words. It was like her brain refused to process what came back, refused to articulate it, as if it knew what Spencer didn't and refused to allow her to express it in any way.

Even when the memories came back, they stayed locked up inside her head, like chains to her brain.

The senator stared at her daughter, expectantly, her expression growing more and more impatient and uneasy by the second.

"Spencer," the older woman prompted and her eyes scanned Emily and Hanna, searching for someone who knew what was going on.

"Mom," Spencer shook her head now, frustrated tears building up in her eyes.

"Say something," Veronica pled and the brunette felt the tears slip down her cheeks.

"I can't go home with you," she whispered. "Not back to that house. Not anywhere near that barn. You were right," she admitted, her palms scrubbing her eyes. "You were right about not wanting me and Toby to be in the barn. I just-I can't go anywhere near that place. I'm sorry, I just," she cut herself off, looking at her mom, begging for understanding.

She didn't exactly get that. Her mother shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, stress overcoming her. Clearly, she didn't anticipate this complication and Spencer knew that deep inside, even if she'd never admit it, her mom was blaming her for being so difficult.

Toby saw the older woman's reaction too, saw what it did to Spencer to feel remorse for something so far out of her control. And he didn't react like he had before when it came to Veronica and Peter Hastings. He didn't grow irritated or angry or disbelieving.

Instead, he wordlessly motioned for Spencer to move closer. She didn't need to be told twice. Without thinking about the audience, she threw herself at him, curling up like a ribbon in his arms.

* * *

"It's too soon to release her now, as it is," Dr. Barnes declared, sometime later. Spencer hadn't really paid him much mind since he'd joined them, hadn't really needed to hear her parents and Dr. Casanova brief him on what'd just happened, when they barely understood it at all.

His new decision though, caught Spencer's immediate attention. Her head flew off Toby's shoulder as soon as she registered what he was saying. "What?" She snapped, words popping out of her mouth easier now. "What do you mean? You were going to release me tomorrow? Why can't you still?"

"Spence," Peter held up a hand, already predicting where this was going and trying to nip it in the bud. "It's too soo-"

"No, it isn't!"

"How can you say that?" He pressed. "After what just happened?"

"How would you know what just happened, dad? You weren't here!"

"Spencer," Dr. Barnes tried, in a low, placid voice. "Your mother said that you stated yourself you're not comfortable leaving-"

"I said I couldn't go back to that house," she corrected sharply. "I never said I couldn't leave this hospital."

"You just had another episod-"

"Don't call them that!" Much to the brunette's surprise, the look in her eyes, the irate, demanding, fiery look that shone in her eyes as she refuted the word, was enough to change both her parents demeanor.

"Honey, we just want to help you."

She drew in a shallow breath once again. "Then please, don't keep me here."

Both Dr. Barnes, Casanova and the Hastings went silent. Radio silent. It was like they had no clue what to say to her, what to say to such a pitiful statement. It was almost unheard of in the Hastings family to ever beg, to ever allow yourself to exude any sort of vulnerability, any sort of trait that didn't scream powerful and excellence.

Toby's eyes trailed to Emily, as they both had the same thought. Rubbing her back, the cop whispered into Spencer's hair, "I'll be right back."

As soon as he stood up, Hanna climbed into bed next to Spencer, hooking their arms and resting her head on her friend's shoulder.

Emily trailed behind the twenty-four year old as he motioned for both the doctors and the Hastings to follow him out into the hall.

"Toby," both parents said at the same time, more in sync now than they were in their marriage.

"Listen-"

"Do you really think being here is helping Spencer at all? Do you see improvements in her in any way, shape or form since waking up?"

"That's the point!" Veronica exclaimed through gritted teeth. "She isn't improving. Not even faintly."

"She's getting worse," Dr. Barnes added, though no one really was here for his opinion.

The Hastings were compelling, dominating, persuasive people. Even those who never encountered them, people who never met them once in their lives, knew of them around Rosewood.

The decision if their daughter left the hospital or not was never up to the doctors. It had always been in Peter and Veronica's hands when their daughter got discharged.

Spencer had been clawing at the walls practically since waking up.

After waking up inside a hospital room, with a partially bankrupt memory. After waking up and finding her nightmarish life turned into a complete living hell. After waking up to find nearly everything taken from her.

Toby wasn't going to let this be taken from her too.

"She isn't going to improve in this hospital. In any hospital," Toby countered. "She needs to be where she feels safe and comfortable, not where she's being watched and analyzed."

He didn't bother to add that it was a glaring fact that Spencer's childhood home was never where she felt safe or comfortable.

"She's still having randomly triggered epi-" Peter cut himself off. "Panic attack type occurrences."

"Those are her memories coming back to her," Emily corrected, softly.

"Exactly!" Spencer's father cried. "Things are still coming back to her-"

"And they're going to keep coming back to her," Dr. Casanova stated, eying Toby warily. As if the cop didn't grasp what was really going on, as if he was completely clueless to his girlfriend's circumstances. As if he wasn't there with her, every single fucking time she lost it.

"And if they keep coming back for a year, are we planning on keeping Spencer in here that long? Or what about two years? What if she can't remember everything in three?"

Veronica scoffed. "Toby, stop. Don't be ridiculous."

It was almost comical, the reaction he was getting from Spencer's parents. In another life, he'd laugh that they were probably seeing for the first time how similar he could be to their daughter. How they both had a fire inside them when fighting for something they desperately cared about. How they both never relented, never yielded when it came to the well-being of the other. How they both bordered on obsessive at times, when it came to fixing the other's issues.

He shut his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts before the conversation got taken away from him, before he got cut off at the knees, before the trained lawyers found a way to turn this entire thing around in their favor, make it impossible to argue for her release.

He felt Emily slip her hand into his, lace their fingers together and squeeze, and he knew that he was doing what was best for his girl. Emily loved Spencer too. The four girls were, as he'd once put it, thick as thieves. If he was stepping out of bounds, doing anything to jeopardize the brunette, Emily-or Hanna-would be the first person to knock sense into him.

"Toby, honey," Veronica tried again, evidently taking her own time to calm down. Or maybe she just realized that the boy in front of her would do anything in this world for her daughter to be okay. Maybe, in spite of how it may be getting on her nerves now, deep inside, she appreciated such a trait in her child's partner. "Spencer, herself, said she couldn't go back to our house. Where else is she going to go?"

"Son, if she-"

"Let me take her home," he stated evenly. "Let me take her somewhere else. Somewhere she wasn't kidnapped and her brain doesn't associate with the massacre."

Veronica and Peter both looked stunned, their eyes boring into each other's. Emily's hand in Toby's constricted, as she gave him a supportive squeeze. He needed it, as the way the Hastings were looking at him made his neck hot and he had to fight the urge to fidget, hating the way his natural timidity, his introverted nature, always got the best of him.

 _Almost_ _always_ , he thought. Had he been fighting for himself, he would have given up a long time ago. But standing here for Spencer, he didn't have the choice of relenting. He wouldn't allow himself to let her down.

"Where do you plan to take our daughter?"Peter asked, still in disbelief, anger creeping into his tone.

Toby didn't blame him, as he anticipated this reaction and, for all the times he couldn't grasp the inner workings of their brains, he understood this one. Their daughter was in a fragile state and someone who wasn't in her life two weeks ago was now trying to take her home with him.

"To your airstream?" Veronica assumed, her voice uncharacteristically breathless.

"The airstream you shared with Yvonne?" Peter hissed, his volume growing.

"No!" Toby instantly yelled, gaining several looks from a group of nurses a couple feet away. "No, of-"

"Okay," Dr. Barnes mediated. "Where do you plan on taking her?"

He rolled his tongue around his cheek for a second, looking at Emily in his peripheral vision for support. "I'll find an apartment. One that I know she'll like."

"And how will you two be moving in tomorrow?" Peter interrogated.

"We'll stay at the Edgewood Motor-Court until we can get in."

The older man scoffed. "How are you going to get Spencer to stay at the Edgewood Motor-Court?"

Toby stared at the lawyer, biting his tongue to keep from saying that was where they'd had their first kiss, where she'd spent the night and slept next to him half naked at the ripe age of sixteen, where they'd returned to more than a year later and rekindled their very fractured relationship. He had to bite his tongue to keep from asking if the man knew his daughter at all.

"This is a ridiculous plan," Veronica told the doctors, a obvious attempt to go over Toby's head.

Dr. Casanova seemed to be in agreement with her, but Dr. Barnes, the doctor who had been with Spencer since she was admitted, turned and looked towards Toby.

"It's not ridiculous," He disagreed quietly.

Both Hastings gaped at the man. "What?"

"You cannot seriously think that what he just purposed was reasonable?"

"I didn't say it wasn't desperate," The physician amended. "But I've seen a lot of desperate people here make impossible circumstances work for someone they love."

In that moment, Toby could have kissed the doctor. "So you'll sign off on it?" He asked, his eyes pleading, ready to get down on his knees and beg.

"Yes," Dr. Barnes smiled. "I'll sign off on it. On one condition though," he revised. "Spencer has to also okay this."

"Absolutely," Toby agreed and Emily nodded adamantly, relief seeping through both of them like a drug injected in an IV.

"You can't be serious," Peter shook his head, both parents' faces absolutely horrified.

"Considering Spencer is who we're talking about, I think she deserves a say."

"A couple days ago, you were talking about sticking her on a psyche ward," Veronica shot back. "Now, what a twenty-four year old _kid_ says changes your mind?"

"I said it could come to that," The doctor corrected sharply. "And it still could. But as long as Toby signs all the paperwork, agreeing to be the one responsible for bringing her back if need be, then there is no problem to the terms of this release."

Both the Hastings still had smoke coming out of their ears as Toby and Emily followed the medical professional back into the room.

"Spence," Emily greeted, her tone giving away her excitement.

Both the blonde and brunette, sitting exactly where they left them, smiled back. "We know. We can hear," Hanna informed, tapping her ear for emphasis. "We heard the whole thing."

Dr. Barnes cleared his throat. "Spencer-"

"Yes," she interrupted before he could say more than her name. "I agree to the terms of this release plan."


	10. Chapter Ten

The next morning, Spencer woke up to familiar lips pressing themselves to her cheek, then her forehead, her mouth, chin dimple and then the shell of her ear, over and over again.

"Toby," she mumbled, smiling before her eyes even opened. "Mmm, keep doing that."

He laughed against her face. "Wake up, babe. They're letting you out of jail."

"Finally, my sentence is complete. I'm a free agent."

"Actually, you're more likely going to be on patrol."

"I'm suddenly hating this jail analogy."

He laughed again, sitting up. "How are you?" He inquired, his tone turning serious, running his hand down her arm, raising goose bumps in their wake. "How's your head?"

She'd had a splitting migraine when she fell asleep the night before. She'd complained about it nonstop, as he ran his fingertips across her forehead until she fell asleep.

She grimaced. "Still there."

He offered her a sympathetic half-smile, before pressing another kiss to the corner of her mouth, cupping her face with one hand. "Do you want to eat here before we go or pick something up on the way home?"

"You have to ask?"

"Hospital food hasn't grown on you, even a little?"

"Does your own feces grow on you if you eat it enough?"

"That was a disgusting analogy."

"It felt appropriate." Spencer shut her eyes, pressing her fingers to each socket before sitting up and massaging her temples.

Toby's hand began to rub the back of her neck. "It's not getting better, is it?"

She shook her head but put on her brave face. "It's fine."

"Will you please let me get you something from the doc-"

"Stop," she commanded, hushing him. "I'm not going to give my parents one more reason to fight my release."

He sighed, giving her a look. "Fine," he conceded. "But I'm going to pick up some Tylenol and ibuprofen on the way to the motel."

"Well thank you, my love."

"Toby?" A nurse in her mid-forties popped her head into the room. "You need to come fill out some paperwork at the front desk and Dr. Barnes also wants to go over a few things with you."

"Thanks," he nodded as she exited as abruptly as she entered. He turned back to his girlfriend and smoothed the covers over her lap. "He probably just wants to go over some precautions with me in case-"

"In case I snap and try to drill my eyes out with your power tools?"

He stared at her for a beat, but didn't look overly taken aback by her colorful imagery. "You have such a way with words, Spence."

Her smirk returned. "It's an art."

He rolled his eyes, but there was affection in his gaze. "Stay here until I come back, alright? You still have some heavy pain killers in your system and I don't want you to crack your head open before we get to the motel."

"Gotta save something for later," she agreed as he walked out.

"Goodbye, Spencer," he called over his shoulder, same as their first morning together, in the Edgewood MotorCourt parking lot.

* * *

About twenty seconds after he left, it occurred the Spencer just how bored she was without him. There was no TV program that could hold her interest. Anything that wasn't G-rated had been blocked on the television in her room, a transparent attempt to stop her from watching the news, in case she herself guest starred. She didn't even have a phone to distract herself with which she, for some reason, hadn't even realized until last night.

She wasn't ever the type to bury her head in technology. Her Facebook feed was pretty dry and Twitter was just a way for people to brag in one hundred and forty characters or less about how wonderful their lives were. Being tagged in photos on Instagram frightened her and actually posting a photo of herself, that anyone in the world could see, sent a chill up her spine.

But, even for her, not having a phone left her feeling weirdly disconnected, like there was another world going on that she was no longer privy too.

She had no idea where her phone even was. It could be at the police station, as the girls had said they had attempted to show the cops the now vanished texts from -A. It could be in her mom's desk drawer. It could be in the garbage can. Either way, it seemed like a cheap effort to stop her from Googling 'Rosewood Massacre'.

She wondered why they bothered so much, why they put so much energy in stopping her from looking up the tragedy? She couldn't even bear to think about what was locked inside her own head. Why would she search it out?

Maybe because in any other case, she would have. She drove herself to the brink of insanity and the doors of a rehab facility, just to find missing pieces of the puzzle.

But this was different. This was harrowing just to think about. She, for once in her life, didn't want to know all the answers as much as she wanted to make it go away.

A part of her, deep down, knew there was something about this whole entire thing that didn't add up. Something that wasn't right. And that something left her trembling and terrified and forced her to break out in a cold sweat.

She attempted to take a deep breath, trying to focus on feeling grateful that she was going home with Toby and _only_ Toby. Putting some distance between her and parents would do them-or at least, her-some good.

When ten minutes passed and the sandy brunette cop hadn't returned, she decided, against her boyfriend's plea, to try and get ready to go.

Dressing was easy. Okay, not easy, but it was simple.

He was right. She was dizzy and incredibly so. But it didn't take much skill to hold the wall for support and tug on a pair of jeans and a sweater.

Part of her instability had to do with the lack of substance in her stomach. In her time in the hospital, she'd refused whatever food she could, the distress in her mind consuming everything inside of her. Including her appetite.

Suddenly, the idea that she was about step out of the hospital that had been her constant since her kidnapping, the idea that she was leaving with the boy she'd lost three years ago and never expected to get back, the idea that from this moment on, she was going to be back out in the big, bright, harsh, unforgiving world, was enough to shake her balance, even in her most solid moment.

She felt her stomach rumble, as if on cue, and though she rarely preferred stale, processed food from a bag, she would choose that over hospital cuisine any day of the week.

Leaning on the wall for balance, Spencer used it as a guide out of the room and into the hallway.

To which, she realized, she'd never been. She hadn't exited her room once. The thought left her feeling even more uneasy, but before she could even begin to ponder why, she was distracted by the sound of sobs coming from down the hall.

A female figure sat in a chair, three inches from the vending machine. Her face was buried in her arm and her back shook with sobs, every so often using her hand to swipe the tears off her face.

And then Spencer squinted and the figure easily distorted into her mother.

Instantly, like being shot or punched, her entire body filled with dread and remorse. She knew without having to mull over it for a second exactly what had her mother so obviously and uncharacteristically distraught.

Her.

 _I'm killing her_ , a voice in her head whispered. _I'm killing my mother_.

Never in her entire twenty-three years had she ever seen her mom so upset. Not even when she consumed so many pills that it sporadically turned her into a violent stranger that left her family in quaking. Not even when she was committed to Radley Sanitarium, the outdated hospital haunted by the secrets of everyone in this town. Not even when her mom took her home after Charlotte Dilaurentis' dollhouse, was Veronica so hysterical.

And she knew then, that her mom was so beside herself because she saw only two alternatives for her daughter.

Jail or a mental hospital.

Veronica was breaking down because she believed her child was literally going insane. She was breaking down because she thought Spencer played a part in this horrendous game.

She should have been angry that her mom would believe such a thing of her. But she wasn't. Because she could see now, that the stress this put on Veronica was literally tearing her apart, from the inside out, much like it was Spencer.

Toby hadn't been lying when he told her the senator was sick with anguish. She looked physically ill, not knowing if her youngest was going to lose it completely or if she'd be found guilty of the crime committed.

She wondered, watching the elder woman attempting to pull herself together, if her parents hadn't pushed to keep her here partially because they thought it was garner public and police sympathy.

For all that seemed wrong about that statement, she couldn't deny that it may have had her best interests at heart. She couldn't deny the fact that her mom-and even her dad-had been there, physically present, for the vast majority of her hospital stay.

And truth be told, she really didn't anticipate that. It was more than she expected out of the distant, detached people who'd raised her.

Unlike before, regret crept up inside her, slowly but steadily and she felt her eyes begin to water, realizing that she was too harsh on her mom. She was problematic and abrasive and difficult, just like they'd always said. Maybe they weren't the greatest parents, maybe they had more flaws than she could count on two hands, but maybe she didn't realize that she was an unbearable daughter. Maybe that was why Melissa was always their favorite. Because truth be told, maybe her parents really, truly _did not_ like her, and maybe she completely deserved it.

After all, everything that had happened to their lives, the chaos that had replaced their normal routines with a living hell, was her doing. They had to go through this whole nightmare too, because of her.

Maybe they weren't wrong to resent her.

Maybe she was really the villain in her own story.

* * *

It only took a moment standing there, staring at her mother's fractured state, for her to bolt, the air abruptly too thick, hitting her and weighing her down.

Like a magnetic pull, she went into autopilot and gravitated without even thinking, towards the blue-eyed police officer.

Finding him wasn't hard. But the crowd he was in caught her off-guard.

Surrounding him was Caleb and Ezra and Emily. And her half-brother.

Three of which never saw her in the hospital, and yet they chose to be here on the day she was released.

"Hey," Emily said as soon as she noticed the brunette standing a few feet out of their circle. "Spence?"

Instantly, four pairs of eyes fall on her tremulous form and watery mocha irises.

"Spencer."

"Hey, are you . . . ?''

"Spence?"

All their greetings went clear over her head as her tearful eyes met Toby's.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, rightfully concerned, as upon his departure, she'd been spewing witty comebacks.

Without waiting for a response, he stepped towards her at the same time she flew into his arms, burying her face into his neck.

She squeezed her eyes shut as she let out a loud sob, completely oblivious now to her audience. "Spencer?" he breathed, growing more and more alarmed by the second. When she didn't say anything, he was forced to draw his own conclusions. "Did you remember something else?" She was already shaking her head before he could get the words out.

"No," she whispered raspily into his skin, turning her head to lay her cheek against his shoulder. "I just saw my mom crying in the hallway."

All four of their onlookers exchanged a perplexed glance, none of them quite grasping why this caused such an upset inside her.

But Toby understood. He always understood. Sometimes she wondered if they didn't have a supernatural connection, the way neither of them had to offer any explanation to the other, ever.

"Spence," he sighed, rubbing her back now, his arms tightening around her.

"I'm killing her," she admitted hoarsely. "This is killing her and it's all on me."

"No, it isn't!"

"Spencer, you can't think that."

"No, you're not!"

Ignoring the comments from the peanut gallery, she shut her eyes again, holding onto her boyfriend for dear life. "I just want this to be over."

The cop didn't respond, didn't try to smooth it over with pleasantries and, albeit well-intended but overall, useless words. Instead his arms rocked her back and forth silently, for as long as she needed to be held.

When the time came, that she was all cried out and her face was no longer a stream of saltwater, she pulled back, moving her arms to wrap around his neck and wiped her face on the shoulder of her shirt.

Toby moved one arm from around her waist and used his thumb to wipe away her leftover tears. The eyes of their friends were still glued to the couple, but his only stayed on her. His baby blues had moisture in them now too and he had to swallow a lump down in his throat, hating the way Spencer was visibly being ripped apart, nearly every second of every day.

Aria, Hanna and Alison had all joined them now, standing with the others, forming a circle around the couple.

No strangers surrounding them thought anything of the girl crying. Tears was the most common occurrence inside a hospital. All anyone assumed was that someone died.

And someone had died. A lot of someones. It just so happened that she scarcely knew any of them.

Spencer didn't understand why that felt untrue.

* * *

Everyone, down to Caleb and Ezra, wanted to console her, hug her, try to make her feel better.

She didn't let any of them.

Instead, she refused eye contact and roughly scrubbed the back of her hand across her red, splotchy skin, trying to force any evidence of tears away.

Her friends understood. They knew she was the backbone of their group, the nurturer, the one who found the lifejackets when the rest of them were lost at sea. She was the one who held it together and broke down privately. Letting her guard down, even with those she loved most, was a challenge for her and always would be.

A part of them, she thought, probably was relieved too. Spencer being the one who needed consoling was a novelty. She was the strong one. When the strong one cracked, the entire dynamic was thrown off and everyone struggled to comprehend what to do.

Jason though, who'd been primarily silent since his little sister appeared, looked like he desperately wanted to say something.

She turned her head, as subtly as she was capable of at the moment, and looked towards the other direction, in hopes that he wouldn't bother.

It didn't work. "Spencer," her brother started.

Instantly her head was shaking, her still uneven breaths growing louder as she attempted to simultaneously relax and force her migraine away.

He tried again as she rubbed her forehead furiously. "Spencer, is-"

"Please stop," she begged, squeezing the bridge of her nose between two fingers, hoping it'd numb the pain in her head, if only slightly.

Jason sighed softly but didn't look discouraged. Before he could say anything else though, Toby rewrapped his arms around her, drawing her back to his chest. He pressed his mouth to her forehead then her hairline. With his lips still attached, he asked so quietly she was the only one to hear it, "Do you want to step outside for a minute?"

She nodded indolently, slowly leaning out of his embrace, still avoiding eye contact.

When he took her hand delicately to walk out, she stopped dead in her tracks. "Babe, can I just-" She struggled, still sniffling. "Can I have a minute alone? Please?"

His oceanic orbs widened instantly, dropping her hand without a second thought. "Of course! No, of course, you can be alone, I'm sorry!"

She didn't react like she should have, the way she would have ordinarily. She didn't tell him it was fine, that he was doing everything right, that she couldn't thank him enough for all he'd done for her, that he was the most understanding and devoted person she'd ever known and that she didn't understand how she got so lucky with him. She didn't understand how even now, even after all that had happened, he could still make everything alright, even if just for a second.

Instead she merely offered him a small, lifeless smile and headed towards the hospital exit.

"Wait!" He called after a beat, causing her to turn around automatically, her brow furrowed. He was already tugging off his jacket. "Here, take my coat," he insisted, wrapping it around her. "I'm sorry, I forgot to ask your dad to get yours and it's really cold-"

"Thank you, babe," she mumbled, cutting off his unnecessary apology.

He nodded as she turned to leave, still massaging her temples in hopes of eliminating her killer headache.

She stepped over the threshold to what she'd considered her prison, for the first time in over a week, and felt the air hit her like a semi-truck.

It was wonderful and awful and bizarre all at once. She didn't realize how strange it would be, to feel the icy breeze sting the skin on her face, to feel the overly potent, bone chilling wind blow Toby's jacket against her harshly.

But it didn't soothe her as much as she'd hoped. It didn't bring her solace or rid her of the tightness in her chest or the raging pain in her skull.

But it was away from the audience and that was all she'd really desired. She loved them, each and every one of them-except Ezra, that is-but she didn't want them to see this. She didn't want them to watch her struggle and fall apart like this.

She hadn't quite realized it before, but it was absolutely humiliating to not be in control of your own mind, to not be able to reign in your emotions or to be constantly on edge, one wrong look away from biting someone's head off. It wasn't something she planned on sharing with everyone, and she didn't want to be rude, but she didn't exactly welcome their presence at the moment.

Keeping people, people who want to help you, at arm's length, was nothing short of detrimental and selfish, she knew. But she also knew that when she felt like this, when anyone was under the duress she was, any person in her line of fire could easily turn into her target and she didn't care how selfish she was, she just wanted to be left alone.

Her solitude came to an unexpected end as another presence casually joined her.

"What are you doing here, Jason?" She asked, deadpan, not even looking at him. She kept her eyes trained on the scenery in front of her, the ominous hospital parking lot, while her brother's eyes bore straight into the side of her head.

"Toby went to fill up your prescription," he informed, dodging her query.

"Good," she nodded, before stating, "but you still didn't answer my question."

The blonde looked down at the ground for a long moment, contemplating. "I wanted to make sure you were okay," he finally said.

"I don't mean why'd you follow me out here," she corrected, crossing her arms across her chest. "I mean, why are you here at all?"

"I just said it, Spence. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Why?" She pressed, her head finally whirling towards him, the fire inside her building once more. "Why today?"

He seemingly struggled to find the words all over again. "I came once, while you were asleep," he admitted, his eyes looking for an understanding, to which Spencer couldn't begin to grasp.

She didn't understand why he cared so much, now, of all times. All the times she'd begged and begged for him to even give her the time of day, to want her as either a sister or a friend and he chose _now_ to make an effort?

A small part of her didn't want to believe that he cared more suddenly, because everyone knew she was in deep trouble. He cared more because he knew if he didn't build some sort of relationship with her now, he'd never get the chance again.

"I sat by your bed and I watched you sleep," he continued. "Toby even left for a couple minutes so I could talk to you."

She let her guard down slightly at his honest words. "Why didn't you come back?"

"Timing was never right," he offered, desperately hoping she would understand. But it wasn't a good enough reason to her.

She remembered Toby explaining that Jason didn't want to be there, trapped in the same room as Veronica and Peter. She remembered sympathizing at the time.

She wasn't in a very sympathetic mood, at the moment.

Her defenses snapped back up again. "You know, if you really care at all about me, you probably should just get over my mom and dad. Or sorry, my mom and our dad."

"I know it's not me you're really mad at," he stated, evenly. "I know it's a combination of things."

"A combination of what?" She flared, not in the mood for his preamble.

"Of your guilt for what this is doing to Veronica and your irritation for even having to be in this hospital to begin with. You're pissy because everyone and their brother is lying to you and treating you like an animal with rabies and you're probably overwhelmed with your memory loss and the night in question and honestly, I know you're just taking it out on me because I'm in your line of fire."

She let out a sigh, her breath visible in the cold air. "Toby isn't lying to me," she corrected after a beat of silence. "And he doesn't make me feel like an animal with rabies."

Jason bypassed her statement. "Usually you're the one who is making all the effort in our relationship," he pointed out, a small smile on his face.

"And you're usually the one who wants me to go away."

His face fell slightly. "That's not true, Spencer." Guilt flashed across his face as he processed her words.

She ignored his statement now. "It's really hard to build a sibling relationship with someone who doesn't want you."

"That isn't true," he refuted again, grabbing her arm as she turned her head away, scoffing at his denial. He took a deep breath before continuing, his voice quieter now and somber. "You know it's hard for me to open up to any sort of family. My family's kind of always been crappy, for as long as I can remember. It doesn't make it easy to accept new relationships with open arms."

She gave him a look and he knew he wasn't getting any empathy here. Not from her, not today. "I wasn't exactly raised with the Brady Bunch. Which was exactly why I always wanted to be close to you. I always wanted to know you."

The blonde nodded, looking down again, contrition creeping up inside of him. His eyes filled with pain and Spencer wondered why that made her feel a little better. Satisfied. Validated.

Maybe she was a monster.

"We just coped differently to being the black sheep of our families," he noted.

All the response he got was an eye roll. When she didn't say anything else for minutes on end, he thought she was completely finished with this conversation.

She surprised him, as he contemplated heading back inside. "It would have been nice, you know," she started, her voice lower. Her tone now carried a somber edge. A wistfulness, for what could have been but didn't pan out. "To have you in my life. I don't know if I could have benefited yours at all but. . . between us both being addicts, to us being outcasted by our families, even to both of us not remembering the night Ali disappeared, I don't know. . . I guess, it just would have been nice to have someone else to talk to. That understood what it was like."

Jason gave her a guilty look, a plea in his eyes for forgiveness. A plea that she'd been wishing he'd offer for years. "But you had Toby, right?" He checked, his tone hopeful. "I mean, he was there for you? You had him to talk to? Man, that kid loves you a lot. . ."

"I love him," Spencer replied simply. "I love him, I love him, I love him," she said, more to herself than to him, a smile crossing her face, the image of the boy she loved with everything inside her now in the forefront of her brain. She shook her head, her tone changing. "But I pile too much on him. I shove all my issues on him. And I have a lot of issues." The blonde looked down, unsure what to say in response. "Me and him broke up though," she added, crossing her arms and looking back at the parking lot, avoiding his gaze again.

Jason's head snapped up in surprise. "What?"

"We broke up three years ago," she informed nonchalantly. "Didn't get back together until last week."

It felt strange, she found, to have a conversation on her relationship status. Everything for so much of her life had been consumed by missing memories and murders and deceit and potential arrests. She scarcely had the opportunity to ever have a conversation on something like her romantic life.

Jason sighed, still feeling guilty for her demeanor towards him. "I'm sorry that we didn't keep in touch when you moved away. Ali, actually, used to keep me updated about big things in your life."

She nodded, curtly. "Same."

They fell silent once more but before he could head back inside, Spencer verbalized something that had eaten away at her for the last five years. "You and Charlotte had a good relationship, didn't you?"

Her brother stared at her for a long moment, taken aback by the inquiry. "Yeah, we did," he finally confirmed.

"Did you spend a lot of time with her?"

The resentment in her voice was hard to miss. "I visited her nearly every day. Until I left Rosewood. Did Aria tell you-"

The brunette cut him off, already knowing about his and Aria's affair. "You drove every day to a mental hospital to see Charlotte for years?"

He nodded, unsure where she was going with this. "Yeah?" She didn't know why but the thought made her eyes fill up all over again. She held them at bay this time, refusing to cry all over again. Seeing her reaction, Jason reached out and touched her arm again. "Spence, what's wrong?"

"It's just ironic," she attempted to remain nonchalant, ignoring that her voice breaking gave her away. "You can build a relationship with my tormentor but not with me."

The statement was selfish and narrow-minded and entirely inconsiderate. Jason's side wasn't hard to see. He knew Cece Drake. He knew Charles. He had been brainwashed by his corrupt and deceiving parents for the vast majority of his life. And Charlotte had been wronged by their parents too, in an unforgivable way. It wasn't difficult to emphasis with Jason, for wanting to know Charlotte, for wanting to help her.

But it _hurt_ , nonetheless. It hurt to know that someone could do to her and her friends what Charlotte had, that someone could cause permanent damage to her psyche that she may never be completely recovered from, that someone could bring such extraordinary pain to her and yet, they were given group therapy to talk about _their_ feelings, they could be shown unconditional forgiveness and understanding, they could be rewarded with compassion and praise.

_She did what she did, because she was mentally ill?_

_Well now, so am I. So are my friends_.

Being mentally ill didn't justify the damage she did. It didn't erase anything, to hear her story and feel sorry for her. And it didn't stop the crippling nightmares or the panic attacks or the rage and nostalgia at the adolescence she never had.

"You know, she only hurt you because she herself was hurting?" Jason asked hesitantly, his sympathy for his deceased sister's ordeal palpable. "What my parents did-"

"Was awful," Spencer finished. "It was. I cannot fathom why anyone would do that to their own child." The words were as blank as they came. "Doesn't really change anything for me, though."

"Spence, please," the blonde pled. "She was in _pain_. She wasn't in her right mind. You heard her story."

"I heard it. I'll never forget, trust me. It was somewhere between my prom and me disabling a bomb before it could blow us all to pieces."

He continued, fighting for his sister, "You weren't even her real target. You girls weren't who she really wanted to hurt. You were just a path to get to Ali." Spencer scoffed now, shaking her head. "What?"

"It was. . . harrowing, what me and my friends went through. It was the most awful time in my life, up until about a week ago. I never thought I'd ever be able to fully recover-I still don't know if I will," she paused and took a deep breath, half wondering why she was even bothering to tell this to him. "But what makes it worse, is the fact that we were nothing more than collateral damage. In the end, what we went through was background noise to everything else surrounding Charlotte and Ali and your mother. And I don't really care what you or anyone else says, it really sucks to be the footnote in someone else's tragedy."

Jason shut his eyes again, realizing that when she was like this, he wasn't going to win. Not today, not right now. She had too much-justifiable-anger against him and, for now, it was a lost cause.

Still, when Spencer opened the door to re-enter the hospital, he couldn't help but blurt out, "I'm sorry."

She froze, taking the words in. They were such a diminutive thing, but they were a rarity to hear in her life.

He continued. "You're right. You're right and I'm sorry that I haven't been there for you in the past. But I want to change that. No matter what you did or didn't do, I'm here."

Because it was all she'd ever wanted to hear, from so many people, the words pierced her thick, stubborn skull, and they got to her.

But she didn't say anything. She ignored the tears in her eyes and started to head back through the doors again.

"Spencer," Jason tried one more time, halting her in her footsteps. "You asked me why I came here. I came here because you're my sister and I wanted to be here for you."

There was a long stretch of silence after he went silent. A long bout where you could hear a pen drop, while Jason waited for her response.

She wanted to believe his words. She wanted to have a semi-normal relationship with a family member. She'd wanted that for so long.

But she wasn't ready. Not now, not today.

"I'm not your sister, Jason," she finally rasped out. "I never was."

* * *

She headed straight back to her room, not even stopping to see her friends. She took the shortcut through a different hallway and slipped back into the hospital room while it was still her's.

She wondered how long it'd take to fill up a prescription, how many bottles were they prescribing, how many drugs was Toby even needing for her?

Spencer didn't realize until then that it was rather strange that they were even still prescribing her serious medications. For what? Her bruises? Her scrapes and cuts? Her surface injuries?

And then, remembering one of many conversations between Toby and Dr. Barnes, she wondered if they weren't giving him anti-anxieties for her. Or worse, anti-psychotics.

She swallowed the thought down, knowing that if that were the case, all she'd have to do is ask. Toby didn't lie to her. He was the most honest person she knew. There wasn't a fat chance in hell he'd keep something like that from her.

It was amazing, how implicitly she trusted him. She and Jason had both grown up in dysfunctional families-although the Dilaurentis' did have the Hastings beat-and yet, they reacted so differently.

She was barely more than a baby when she met Toby. Sixteen years old and bitter as dark chocolate, but, though still pessimistic, she didn't turn into Jason. She didn't become a guarded, loner that trusted no one not to betray her. She didn't reject all familial connection, like a plague.

And most of that was thanks to Toby. Most of that was thanks to his never yielding love and support, his soothing demeanor and his forgiving nature. His belief that there was so much good in the world, despite only being shown the bad. His belief that there was so much goodness in her, that she could do the right thing, that she could be the person he thought she was. He never gave up on her, not even when they broke up for wanting different lives. He never gave up on her, even when everyone else did.

Almost as if she made it up in her imagination, Veronica's voice rang in her ears. She heard her mother murmuring something, the words unintelligible but her voice absolutely unmistakable.

"Mom?" Spencer called, before she even thought it through, before it registered in her brain that this woman was bawling a half hour back about all the mess the brunette had brought to their lives.

The older woman didn't respond but Spencer, to the best of her ability, steadied herself and cautiously approached, finding the senator lingering in the threshold to her room.

"Mom," she said again and she studied the splotchy nature to her mother's face. The evidence of her breakdown hadn't evaporated yet and the brunette felt a pang of guilt, all over again. It hit her just like before, speck by speck, until her entire body was consumed with shame for how far she'd ripped the lives of those she loved apart.

"Honey, were you crying?" Veronica asked, startling her daughter.

Oddly, her first thought was that this was the first time in her life she could remember that her mom noticed such a thing. Even as a small child, when she cried about disappointing her parents, losing a competition or the favoritism towards Melissa, neither Veronica or Peter had ever commented on it. Unless she was a loud, wailing mess in their direct vision-and even then sometimes-they remained oblivious to her upset, always,

"Yeah, a little," she shrugged, hoping to sound blasé.

Her mom didn't let it go. "About what?" Her eyes grew wide with concern.

And that did it. Without warning, even in her own brain, she admitted, "Because I saw you crying in the hall."

Comprehension flicked across the older woman's face. "Oh, Spencer," she sighed, looking at her daughter differently now. The embarrassment she anticipated didn't appear. Instead, she looked contrite, like she'd hurt her daughter in an unintended way.

And Spencer realized that her mom really did love her, just as much as she loved Melissa. Maybe it was different, maybe the love you have for your kids is never the same, but she knew deep down that no matter how difficult she may be, no matter how much her personality alone grated on her mother's nerves, no matter how many fights they had or how many times her mom reprimanded her with a hidden stab, the woman loved her with all her heart.

Which made it possible for her to express her feelings to her mom, in a way she'd never really felt safe before. "Mom," she swallowed hard, hoping she didn't look too pitiable. "I just wanted you to know that I appreciate everything you've done for me. Everything you gave up to be here with me, even on my worst day. I didn't really expect you to be here with me almost every hour of every day. Especially when we weren't getting along. But you were. Here. You didn't leave me, and I know that you just wanted what was best for me and I know I can be stubborn and difficult but. . . I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for being here with me no matter what." The words weren't easy to say. Her voice was quiet and she avoided eye contact throughout but, much to her utter and complete astonishment, they meant something to Veronica.

"Oh, sweetheart," the woman breathed and unexpectedly gathered her daughter into her arms, cradling her head.

Even without a warning, Spencer easily breathed in her mom's perfume and burrowed her face into her shoulder, shutting her eyes.

The two of them stood there for minutes on end, without a word, hugging.

"You're my baby," she whispered, catching her daughter off-guard once again. She pulled back slightly to look at the brunette's face. "I know I've never told you that in so many words but I want you to know that you are." She touched her hair, softly. "I love you so much, honey. I would do absolutely anything for you to be okay."

That was Spencer's final breaking point. "I'm sorry that I've been so awful," she cried.

Veronica instantly hugged her again, "No, sweetie, you haven't. I haven't been. . ." she cut herself off prematurely, but Spencer knew what she was going to say.

_I haven't been the greatest mother._

The senator cradled her daughter's head again. "You're going to be okay," she promised quietly, instead of completing her last sentence. "You're going to be okay."

"You don't know that," Spencer disagreed, tears still evident in her voice.

"Yes, I do. I know Toby. I know that he'd never do anything that put you in jeopardy. If I didn't, I would never even think of letting this release happen. And more importantly, I know you, Spencer. I know you're going to be okay. I promise you."

She didn't believe her, she didn't even believe her mother believed herself, but instead of saying anything else, she shut her eyes and pretended Veronica was right. She pretended that her mom was as positive as she was pretending, that it was possible for her to know her daughter's fate just by being her mom, that everything really would turn out okay.

She tried to believe that hope wouldn't breed her eternal misery this time.

But faith wasn't her strong suit.


	11. Chapter Eleven

"How exactly did you get all of my crap in the bed of your truck?" Spencer asked, still mildly amazed that he'd managed such a thing without her noticing.

Not that she had really been her usual zealously observant self as of late, but she still couldn't quite see where he'd found the time for a task like that while being by her bedside, twenty-four-seven.

"The girls helped. Jason and Caleb helped. Even Ezra helped. Sort of," Toby amended, visibly fighting the urge to roll his eyes, some sort of recollection causing him slightly aggravated amusement.

She stared at him for a minute, brow furrowed, debating if she was curious enough to waste her breath on Ezra Fitz or not. "What'd Ezra do?"

Truth be told, after the conversation the day prior between Emily, Hanna and her, she'd sort of just assumed someone guilted Aria into showing up at the hospital for her release and, like she did many times before, no matter how uncomfortable it was for all parties involved, she'd dragged Ezra along for the ride.

"Ezra didn't do _anything_ , actually," the cop chuckled now, turning the wheel sharply around a corner. At her faintly confused smile, he amended, "I'm more laughing about Caleb."

"Huh?"

Toby shrugged, nonchalant, but his mouth still held a smirk. "It's really not that important."

"Tell me," she insisted. "I could use trivial right about now."

She'd left the hospital, still recovering from tears, avoiding her friends' worried glances and reassuring pats on the shoulder and back. Aria even went as far as to hug her while they walked to the car, despite the fact that Spencer remained unresponsive.

She realized, no matter how unfounded it may be, that being vulnerable in front of too many people-actually nearly _anyone_ -left her feeling humiliated and exposed. It gave her an overly hot feeling in her chest and made her vision blur.

There was really only one person who'd ever made her feel unashamed by her own vulnerability. He did it by showing her his own, unafraid and unabashed. His trust in her, with his own delicate and entirely untainted heart, gave her the confidence to show him her's in return.

As she'd left the hospital, her mother had watched, still completely and disturbingly devastated by her own child's life, falling apart before everyone's eyes.

Her father had been out of sight. He wasn't there to wish her goodbye or see her leave or even know that she was gone.

His position on her release was always abundantly clear. Peter Hastings had never faltered from his stance, that she had no business outside the four white pallid walls of her assigned room and that anyone who believed otherwise was a complete and utter fool. But for some reason, she was still unprepared for his absence as she'd walked out of the building. Stupidly, like the hopeful little girl she scarcely remembered being, she'd searched for him all the way to Toby's truck, only to be disillusioned once again.

She didn't say a word, accepting the fact of her father's physical abandonment, as she got in the car, pretending it didn't make her heart ache and even drive out a slightly angry edge in her. She said goodbye to her friends, climbed into the truck and then noticed in the rearview window all her stuff had been packed in and strapped down in the bed. She didn't say a word about her dad, all the way out of the hospital parking lot.

She didn't have to.

Toby had taken her hand and kissed it, gently, without taking his eyes off the road. "He just doesn't know how to do the right thing," the twenty four year old had whispered.

"It's not half as funny as I'm making it seem," Toby cautioned, bringing her back to the present.

"I can't know unless you share."

"When we were packing up your stuff, I originally said I wanted all of it to come with us. I wanted to make this as easy as I could for you. But then Ezra started saying it wasn't going to fit and Hanna said taking two trips would be stupid and Emily and Aria started to try and narrow it down and Jason thought he should just trail us to the motel and bring the rest and then, Caleb decided to take charge, because for some God forsaken reason, he thought he knew what things you needed better than the rest of us because he used to live in the barn with you-"

"Wait, what?" Spencer exclaimed. "That's-"

"Ridiculous? Yeah, that's what I thought. But with all the tension going around lately, I held my tongue and walked away. Then Alison started telling Caleb he had pissed me off and Hanna heard Ali and she and Caleb got into an argument."

The brunette stared at him for a long moment, waiting for the punch line. "You're cracking up because Hanna and Caleb got into a fight?" She concluded, bewildered.

"A small tiff," he corrected.

"Well, that's not very nice of you," her rebuke was contrasted with her wry smile.

"Oh please, they were fine at the hospital. I think they made out in the parking lot after we drove away."

"What did I do to you?" She exclaimed, laughing, shaking her head. "You're smirking at our friends' misfortune!"

"Our friends broke your heart, did they not?"

And then she got it. No further explanation was needed, as she realized Toby's rapid disdain for Caleb Rivers had nothing to do with anything but the brunette in the seat next to him.

Strangely enough, Spencer didn't even remember until his words that Caleb had broken her heart. Hanna and Caleb, that is, and their betrayal.

Partially because the circumstances she was surrounded by now, forced the cheating to pale in comparison, and partially because the man in the seat next to her had mended every fracture to her heart in the blink of an eye.

"Well, I really hope Hanna isn't mad at me," Spencer noted, the idea forcing the smile clean off her face.

"Why would she be?"

"I don't know. Because I'm the topic of their fight?"

"I already told you, babe. Their _fight_ was an argument and it probably ended in make-up sex."

"You really want to imagine Hanna and Caleb having make-up sex?"

"That's disgusting."

"Getting all hot and heavy in the backseat-"

"Spence," he groaned.

"Well, you said it!" She laughed, staring out the window at the pavement flying by them as they sped down a back road. The brunette sighed, sobering up rapidly. "I just really don't want her to be angry with me for her and Caleb's issues."

"It would be stupid for her to get mad at _you_ though," the cop reasoned, turning his eyes away from the road to glance at her. Without thinking, she gave him a pointed look and raised an eyebrow, fighting a smirk. Toby instantly erupted into laughter again. "I'm telling her you said that."

"I said nothing!"

"You called her stupid!"

"No," she reasoned lightly. "I just implied she wasn't always the brightest."

"Solid refute, Spence."

"She gets on your nerves," the brunette stated, knowingly. "I see the way you get frustrated with her."

"I like Hanna! I do, I just. . . don't understand her. I'm not used to her type of personality. You and her are complete polar opposites," he pointed out.

"That's what makes us so close."

"Yeah, but it also makes me really confused when she starts talking. I have no idea how to respond to her or what she's trying to tell me sometimes."

"I know what you mean," she rubbed his arm, thinking of the double date with Hanna and Caleb, an entire lifetime ago. Thinking of before prom when Hanna tried to see if Toby knew what Caleb was up to and instead only left Toby perplexed and baffled. "We are really different. Hanna's sort of dramatic and likes to exaggerate a lot." Out of the corner of his eye, Toby peered over at her. She didn't comment on it until a quiet snort escaped. "Excuse you?"

"I said nothing," he repeated.

"I am not over dramatic and I don't exaggerate, thank you very much."

"Okay."

"I don't," she maintained. Before he could say anything else, the scenery changed from the lackluster back roads and suddenly, they were pulling into a parking lot.

"We can't get into a room for another hour so I figured-"

Before he even finished his sentence, Spencer was flinging her door open and stumbling out. "Oh, thank god. My health has been rapidly declining with all the hospital food I've had to consume."

A smirk formed on the cop's face. "Oh yeah, babe, you don't exaggerate at all."

* * *

"We need to talk," Spencer started, setting her menu down in front of her.

"I told you, whatever you want to eat, order it. I don't care if you order three prime ribs and the lobster-"

"That's actually what I wanted to talk about."

"The lobster?"

"Toby," she shut her eyes, her demeanor swiftly changing.

He sensed her mood change instantly and put his menu down now too, reaching for her hand. "What's going on," he asked gently.

She focused her eyes on the table cloth, grinding her lower lip between her teeth. "How are we going to manage to pay for anything?" She softly inquired.

Toby squeezed her hand tighter, his expression relieved it wasn't something of greater concern. "Money is the very last thing you need to think about."

Her answer was stubborn and it rolled off her tongue instantly. "You know, that's not me. That's never been me," she stated. "I'm not just going to sit around and suck your bank account dry, while you do everything."

"I know that, Spence, but with everything going," he paused to choose his words carefully. "With everything you've got on your plate, I don't want you to worry about finances right now. I can handle them."

The brunette shook her head, wracking her brain for the right words. She looked past him, out the window into the mutely lit night outside. "I just want us to be equals," she admitted quietly, almost defeated.

"We are equals!" He immediately countered, adamantly. "We've always been equals-"

"I don't feel equal, not contributing anything, and forcing you to pay for both of us. Besides," she argued, her eyes growing glassy. "You were suspended from your job for saving me. I'm the reason we have no money-"

"Sweetheart, I have money saved up," he corrected evenly.

"You mean the money from the settlement? For your blown-up house? Really, Toby? You want to spend the money that you got from losing your entire childhood, just to pay for me, because you're out of a job and I am physically not allowed to work?"

Toby gave her a look. "I'm paying for myself too, not _just_ you. And I told you, I have this under control. I promise, you don't have to worry. Trust me."

"I trust you," she gave his hand another squeeze, lacing their fingers together. "But I don't feel right not pulling my weight."

"Spencer, you pull your weight in everything. Hell, you pull practically everyone else's weight too. Don't act like you're a freeloader, living off me because you're lazy."

"But that's what this feels likes," she exclaimed. "It doesn't feel right to-"

"To what? Have someone else take care of you? Not have to worry about everything for everyone? Not being four people's backbone?" Spencer sighed, adverting her eyes once again. "Money has never been one of our problems, Spence," the cop declared calmly. "Of all of our issues, _that_ was never one of them. No matter who paid for what."

"I guess," she finally conceded dimly, using her plastic straw to swish her ice water around.

Toby studied her face a minute. "Did you feel any different," he started, his tone lightning up a little, "when it was reversed? When you supported me?"

She met his eyes, a small smile fought its way across her mouth, remorse lifting off her noticeably. He had her there. "You breaking your leg doesn't feel like the same thing," she disagreed but the fight was out of her voice.

"Um, I recall relying on you and your mom for an entire six weeks."

"Oh please," she rolled her eyes. "My mother? She was rarely home, and even then, she was more focused on my impending court case than the fact that her eighteen year old daughter's boyfriend was sleeping in the house. I'm pretty sure you guys spent more time together in the hospital recently than in those six weeks. I'm not even entirely sure she knew you were staying there."

"Still," he countered nonetheless. "I couldn't afford my rent that month, I couldn't pay for any of my utilities or my doctor bills. You took care of it all. You paid for everything I ate in those six weeks, you drove me around without complaint, you paid for my wheelchair and my crutches. Did you feel like I was freeloading off you?"

"No," she answered simply. The look of guilt was gone and now in its place was the slightly disgruntled expression she naturally got every time she lost a debate. "Alright, fine, you win," she allowed. "I see your point."

He laughed, satisfied with how this disagreement ended. "Not to mention how many times you helped me shower for those six weeks," he smirked at her again and received a napkin spewed across the table, aimed at his face. His laugh only grew as he caught the cloth, keeping one eyebrow raised at her as he folded it gently. "Just consider this payment for when I had a broken leg."

The brunette rolled her eyes again. "I don't want to be indebted to each other, Tobes."

"Then let's not," he suggested easily. "Let's not complicate it. We're equals and equals pay for each other's shit."

She sighed dramatically but it was clear he'd already won. "Alright, fine. If you say so."

* * *

"How many times can my friends text me in an hour?"

"I'm just glad you left your phone in the car while we ate," Toby remarked from the driver's seat. "I don't like having to split our attention between each other and our cell phones."

She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I mean, twenty four texts collectively from the girls, in the hour we were eating. Twenty four! I almost wish my mom hasn't given me my phone back before I left. Now I'm responsible for keeping the girls updated."

"You can tell them to text me again instead," Toby offered.

"Again? You and them were texting a lot?"

"Only while you slept. They wanted to know every last detail of how you were doing and they couldn't visit you, so," he shrugged, offhandedly.

"Well they must think I'm going to die every two seconds because they won't stop asking if I'm still alright."

Her boyfriend pondered something for a moment. "Hey, speaking of your. . .friends," her head snapped away from the small screen to glance at him, his tone setting off her anxiety deep in her stomach. "Jason has been texting me. He's still relying on me for updates on how you're doing. I told him Veronica gave you your phone back but he said you weren't too fond of him at the moment."

Spencer pursed her lips, unsure how to react to that. The idea that Jason, like the girls, had demanded step by step updates on her condition made her feel the slightest bit of regret for her prior resentment towards the blonde. "My relationship with Jason is. . . really, really complicated. Complicated at _best_."

"I know," he validated immediately. "But you worked so hard for so long to build a relationship with him. You wanted him to care. Maybe don't push him away so much. I don't want you to look back and regret it one day."

She shut her eyes, processing his words. Toby was one of the only opinions-if not _the_ only opinion-that she truly valued. If he was suggesting giving Jason a break, maybe she needed to take it to heart.

After all, Toby was the person she relied on to be her conscious when she was too out of it to know right from wrong. He was the person she looked to for judgment calls and that she trusted implicitly to call her out if she was dead wrong. As unhealthy as that might be to trust someone so implicitly, without reservations, without conditions, without fear.

He turned the wheel sharply, driving into the motel parking lot. "Aw, Tobes, look," she pointed straight ahead of them. "It's our space."

"Our space?" He searched where she pointed. "I think you need glasses too, babe. We stayed in room two one five our first night."

"Not the room!" She corrected, her voice raising an octave. "I'm talking about there! That's our parking space."

He stared at her for a moment. "We have assigned parking?"

"Toby!" She scolded as comprehension struck his face.

A smile spread across his mouth. "Do you really remember the parking space where we had our first kiss?"

"Of course!" She affirmed immediately, her eyes growing wider. Looking almost insulted, she asked, "wait, you don't?"

"I was sort of busy making sure I kissed you right. I didn't have time to pull out _Google Earth_ to landmark it."

"But it was our first!"

"And it was magical. Even if I can't find the exact space it happened in."

She was still scoffing while opening her door and stumbling out of the passenger's side. "Babe, wait," Toby called, chasing her now. "I don't want a repeat of the restaurant."

"Nothing happened," she persisted.

He gave her a pointed look. "You almost face planted on the way to our table."

She sighed as he wrapped an arm around her, walking them both into the motel room. "Just like old times," she murmured cheekily as Toby guided her to the bed to lay down. "Can you believe my dad actually thought I would refuse to stay here?"

Toby smiled faintly, his attention now elsewhere. His hand swept all bangs off her forehead, examining her face again. "How dizzy are you?" He asked smoothly.

Her expression sobered. "Honestly? Pretty shaky." She stared at the ceiling, pondering something. "Do you think we could just. . .stop my pain medications. .. altogether?"

The cop stared at her blankly. "You want to stop all your pain medications?" He repeated, completely mystified at the suggestion.

She nodded, hating the fact that she even had to ask permission. Not just in regards to Toby and not just right now. The fact that she had to ask anyone for permission to do anything irritated her to no avail.

It was a hard pill to swallow to realize that _she_ had been abducted, _she_ had been beaten and _she_ had lost her memory of all events surrounding the crime. _She_ had a concussion, _she_ had an undiagnosed, unexplainable form of memory loss that confused her doctors, more than likely a reaction to trauma.

Someone did this to _her_. And yet, she felt like it was her that was being punished for the entire affair.

"I hate being unable to walk on my own without looking like a drunk," she finally elaborated quietly.

He seemed to read her mind, understand her aggravation, her frustrations, her underlying irritation, because it took him next to no time to agree. "Spence, if you don't want the prescriptions," he shrugged slowly. "I'm not going to force it on you. You're not in the hospital anymore. I'm not your doctor. This is your choice."

After being scolded repeatedly, essentially treated like a child again and conditioned to hearing 'no' and being told what she could and couldn't do, her boyfriend's words were a shock.

On nothing other than complete impulse, she leaned up, still completely unbalanced, and pressed a hungry kiss to his lips, throwing her arms around his neck. "Babe," he whispered breathlessly as they pulled apart. "Just promise to tell me if you need them again, alright? I don't want you to be in excessive pain," he brushed her hair back, his eyes unsure of his decision despite how confident he felt. Confident that it was her decision, confident that he had no right to belittle her from her own desire, confident that she, herself, knew how she felt better than he could ever infer.

It didn't feel right for him to take away her freewill. When he'd signed all the papers and talked to the doctors, he'd agreed that if she started showing signs of mental deterioration, he'd bring her back in. If she stopped speaking or curled up in a ball and wouldn't come out for days on end, if she grew violent with others, outside of her panic attack episodes-the doctors didn't even know what to label them. If he couldn't bring her back to reality. If she refused to eat or get out of bed. If she started clawing at herself. Any sign of something detrimental to her physical or mental well-being, he had to bring her back in for an evaluation.

He didn't agree however to forcing down her throat drugs that she didn't want, that made her lightheaded and rendered her unable to perform her any task on her own. The painkillers they gave were _strong_. Knock you flat on your back strong.

Which only added to his mountain of anxiety. He knew it was obvious to her he was on edge-a disadvantage to knowing each other inside and out-but he chose to keep to himself the thought that there had to be a reason behind them prescribing her such heavy mediation. They wouldn't just hand them out to any patient with bruises and scrapes and cuts.

"I love you," she murmured, lying back again. The words made his heart, still, to this day, skip a beat. "But I'm just a little beat up. The very worst injury I have is the stitches in my forehead. And I don't even remember I have them until someone stares or I catch my reflection. Alright, this is nothing I can't handle." The cop said nothing, just gave her what he hoped was a small, supportive smile and a slight nod.

Segueing to a new topic, one that didn't require words, Spencer gripped Toby's collar, dragging his upper body over her, fusing their lips together again.

He kissed her back, almost as passionately as he had in the hospital shower, but when she reached for the hem of his shirt, he pulled away, moving his lips to her nose, forehead and hairline before sitting up.

"Toby!" She exclaimed, heaving herself up too.

"What?" He queried innocently.

"Come on," she insisted breathlessly, wrapping her arms around his neck and molding their lips together one more time. Her tongue effortlessly slipped into his mouth, twisting itself with his and she felt a peacefulness, a sense of serenity, a deep tranquil and love and euphoria, all spread across her body, building from deep inside the pit of her stomach and rapidly exploding through her like fireworks.

Until he pulled back, once again.

"Why are you stopping," she complained the second her mouth was free, not even caring how much she sounded like a petulant child.

"Because," he whispered, his eyes pained. He stared at her with so much love and desire and longing and ache.

"Because why?"

"Because this isn't right," he explained, still trying to catch his breath. "You said yourself that you want us to be on equal ground. I don't feel like we are right now."

"What the hell, Toby?"

"You can't even walk! Hell, I went with you to the bathroom to make sure you didn't fall-"

"So? There's tons of couples who don't think that's weird," she argued, her brows furrowing, heartbreakingly perplexed. It was entirely impossible for her not to take this personal. He'd never rejected her before, not when she wasn't inside a hospital room.

If they were on good terms, if their relationship wasn't being ripped apart by -A or the Rosewood Police Force or even their families, he had always been ready to go at it, in a second's notice. From the night in the motel room when they were both assuming the alias of –A, to when he proclaimed that he'd choose her over his job in a heartbeat, to the day she came home from the dollhouse, he'd always been ready to go the second she was.

They were so much a physical couple. Their love was bone deep, and they had a way of communicating that no one else understood. They had a level of reverence for the other that compared to no one and they had done things for each other that were unthinkable to many.

But they rarely talked things through. The little things. The small details. So much of their communication was done through bodily gestures, like taking the other's hand, rubbing each other's arms, cuddling, hugging, kissing. And lack thereof.

Him rejecting her advances felt so much more grave and hurtful to her than any other form of refusal.

He noticed instantly too. He saw the look in her eyes, the look he couldn't bear seeing, the look that killed him to know he put there, even with the best of intentions. "Spence," he sighed, taking her hand. "We can't. Not right now."

"Why not?" She asked simply, not comprehending, a desperate gleam in her eyes.

"Because you can't even walk a straight line. It would feel like I was," he cut himself off, breaking eye contact. He couldn't look her in the eye, see how his rebuff hurt her, no matter his reasons. He couldn't watch her as he said no, when all he wanted was to take her in his arms and give into their physical desires.

He'd never been able to deny her anything.

"Maybe Jenna," the name forced her to tense and she didn't know why. It was like her brain had a reaction that she didn't know the cause of. Like her mind was keeping another secret from her. "Maybe my past with her has made me more than guarded about consent but. . . I just really can't do this with you until there isn't a chance in hell you're a hundred percent present," he explained, his eyes still on the wall behind her.

She nodded, already moved on from the conversation. Her demeanor had drastically changed with the mention of Jenna's name and, the dreadful feeling in the pit of her stomach, the ache in her chest, the hot feeling in her head, the nausea feeling in her throat, the air being squeezed out of her lungs, all over it topped with her unstable balance, left her heaving and stumbling as she struggled off the bed.

"Spencer?" Toby's eyes snapped to her faltering figure, alarm coloring his tone, their previous conversation abruptly forgotten. "What's wrong?"

She didn't answer him, couldn't even manage to speak, as she rushed gracelessly through the doorway to the bathroom and threw herself at the counter.

She took one breath, two breaths, three breaths, four. All to no relief. Nothing helped. Nothing cured whatever in the world was happening to her.

She made an animalistic noise as her stomach churned. "Spencer," Toby called again, frantic. He was rushing through the threshold just as his girlfriend lunged for the toilet, the contents of her stomach, everything she just ate, working its way back up in rapid succession.

"Oh my god, baby," Toby gasped, instantly crouching down over her, pulling her hair back.

The second she was done, she threw herself into his arms. "Toby, what the. . ." she involuntarily burst into tears, more disturbed than she could even articulate by what just happened.

She didn't understand why she wasn't just not improving, but instead getting more and more unhinged? Why were new, random names becoming triggers for her? Why was she beginning to get violently ill, even without the flashbacks? Why did she feel like piece by piece, she was crumbling apart?

Toby felt his own limbs shaking for the first time and realized how fucking petrified he was. There was no one else here but him now. Whatever happened to her, no matter how ugly this illness-because that's what this was; an illness-became, he had to pull her back. He was the only one who could help her.

But he also knew that he was the only person who'd _ever_ been able to mend her when she fell apart at the seams. They could be in a room full of a hundred and he'd still be the only one who could ever give her the solace necessary.

No one understood them, like they did each other. No one knew their unspoken language, of gestures and touches and silent glances.

She was still heaving loudly as he wet down a motel supplied washcloth and carefully wiped her mouth with trembling hands. "What the-" she choked out again, nearly retching on her own sobs. She furiously squeezed her eyes shut to stop her brutally unrelenting tears.

Toby forced himself to take a deep breath, sitting down next to her on the cold, rigid tile floor. Without saying a word, he guided her head into his lap, pushing his fingers through her hair, in a slow, soothing motion.

"What's happening to me?" She whimpered into his lap, her cries growing louder and louder, until they were they only thing he could hear.

* * *

When she'd cried and cried and cried herself out, until her throat felt pricked with needles and the skin, the bruised and cut up skin, on her face was tender and raw, Toby had lifted her to his chest and carried her back out to the bedroom.

He sat with her on the edge of the bed, squeezing her to him tight enough to elicit pain in her ribs, for nearly two hours.

Unlike the hospital, when she calmed down, she didn't apologize and she didn't hide herself in him either.

She pulled away slightly, her head no longer burrowed in the crook of his neck, and used both hands to wipe her face. The medication was still in effect and she felt no discomfort as she scrubbed the lacerations on her face in effort to remove evidence of her tears.

The first thing she said was hoarse and broken and almost too vulnerable for even her to believe. "What's going to happen to me?" She asked, looking at Toby with absolute, infinite trust.

"Nothing," he promised, rubbing her back gently. "Nothing."

"You don't know that," she disagreed, her voice barely audible.

"Yes, I do," he pledged. "Because I will do whatever it takes for you to get through this. Whatever we have to do, we'll do."

His words, just like at the hospital, all the promises he'd made, all the vows he'd swore by, brought a lifeless smile to her face.

"I don't know how you're so confident," she murmured. "But I'm really glad you're here. Still."

The cop felt his eyes grow misty. "I'm really glad I'm here too."

* * *

After she was calm, after she climbed off his lap and, using a fresh washcloth, scrubbed her face feverishly, Toby ran her a bath, hoping to ease the overflowing, never yielding tension built up inside her.

It was obvious to anyone with vision, even someone not privy to the recent events, that she was barely there. That with every new occurrence, a piece of her was fading away.

It was out of her control. She couldn't contain it and she couldn't slow it down.

For the first time, Toby wondered if he shouldn't have heeded her parents' warning and kept her in the hospital.

He'd never admit it to her, never want to say something that could potentially hurt her to know.

He didn't want her to think she was a burden to him, especially when it was just the opposite. She was the light of his life. She was the reason the world still, after everything that'd happened and all the people he'd loved that he'd lost, spun around for him. Spencer was, in every way possible, his angel.

But he didn't know if he could live with himself if something happened to her, because he was wrong. Because he'd made a drastic mistake. Because he forced a bad judgment call, because he couldn't deny her anything.

The cop sat on the queen size bed, flipping the channels of the television, not even looking to see what was playing. His usual calm demeanor, his easy going nature that balanced Spencer out, was evaporating and in its place was a life sucking anxiety that screamed at him for ever taking her out of the hospital.

Hours passed until she returned, exiting the bathroom unsteadily in the clothes she was wearing before. "Spencer," Toby breathed but he didn't add anything else.

Wordlessly, she situated herself in his arms, anchored to him. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, her brows furrowed once again. "I'm sorry I keep screwing up."

"You're not," he exclaimed. "You are not screwing up. There's nothing wrong-"

"Toby, please," she cut off. "Don't deny it. It only makes it worse."

He shut his eyes, leaning his head against her's for a long moment. "You're not at fault for anything that's happening."

For some reason, he was surprised she responded. "Doesn't really matter though, does it?" She asked rhetorically. "Because in the end, the results always the same. No matter who's at fault, I'm still the one who's mentally deteriorating. I'm still the one who's poisoning your life-"

"Spencer, you are my life," he disputed. "You're everything to me. And yeah, this isn't a picnic for anyone but that doesn't mean it's your fault."

She sighed deeply but went quiet, turning towards the television set in front of them.

"What're you watching?"

He quickly pressed the guide button and started searching for something she'd like. Her responsiveness was improving again, she was finally there with him, present and anything he could do to keep it that way, he'd do without reservations.

"Freaky Foodies is on," he noted, selecting the program he'd once complained was disgusting and ridiculous.

That got a reaction out of her. "You _hate_ this show."

"You love this show."

"You said it was nauseating and redundant."

"You said it was pure brilliance."

"You said it was offensive."

"We were watching an episode where someone named Tony Kavanaugh was eating pillows. Of course I was offended. You were asking if I wanted bamboo memory foam for dinner."

The memory, the stupid, inane story, made her giggle in spite of herself.

As the episode carried on, with her full attention on the screen, Spencer repositioned herself several times in order to get comfortable.

"Do you want a massage?" He asked, almost hopeful. The cop wanted something he could _do_ to help her, help her mend, raise her spirits.

She nodded, not as animated as she was when they'd checked in, but better than she was an hour ago.

She slid off his lap and laid flat on her stomach next to him on the bed, her eyes still trained on the program.

"Please tell me they're not about to eat the entire package of erasers," Toby muttered, lifting up her shirt.

"It can't be that bad for them, actually," she claimed, sighing in pleasure as the cop's fingers rubbed her pressure points.

His palm began to kneed her lower back, right at her waistline. "What do you mean?"

"Students eat the erasers off their pencils all the time. It's a seriously common nervous habit. Last I checked, there's no correlation between students who chew their erasers and student deaths, so I'm guessing it's one of the safer habits to have," she elaborated offhandedly.

It was the most she'd said-and the most Spencer thing she could say-in hours. The tiniest bit of relief spread through his veins and, on a whim, he ducked his head down to plant open mouth kisses on her back.

"Ah!" She squealed cacophonously, followed by a loud cackle and he grinned against her skin. Elation replaced a portion of his apprehension and he sighed out in relief.

And then, like she had so many times before, the brunette took him by complete surprise.

She pushed herself up, off her stomach, using the strength of her weak arms and swiftly removed every article of clothing on her body.

The twenty-four year old cop's eyes grew large, unsure what she was doing, until she laid back down on her stomach, as if nothing had changed.

"Could you keep massaging, babe?" She asked sweetly, her demeanor changing ever so slightly. "My whole body hurts."

He hesitated, unsure where this came from but more terrified of forcing her to retreat back into her shell. "Yeah," he agreed, trying to appear completely natural.

As he began to rub down her body, he found himself unable to focus on anything else but her. The sordid TV show was a loss to him now. An elephant could have climbed out of the screen and into the motel room to trample both of them and he wouldn't have noticed anything but her.

He massaged all the way, head to toe, down her body once, twice, three times, before the episode ended and the credits rolled across the screen.

As the program changed, so did his girlfriend. Instead of lying there, passively and seemingly oblivious, she, without warning, pushed him back so that he wasn't leaning over her anymore and flung herself into his lap, wrapping both arms around his shoulders and shoving her mouth on his.

He saw exactly where this was going, although it was truly no surprise. He knew it was just a matter of time since she'd stripped down.

He didn't reject her advances. The very last thing he wanted in the world was to hurt her when she was at like this. Desperate and confused and frustrated and vulnerable.

But he also refused to do anything to her that, in anyone's book, could be considered taking advantage of.

Just like hours prior, when she reached for the hem of his shirt, he, as sweetly and tenderly as possible, leaned back. "Spence," he whispered, searching for the right words to stop her.

He didn't need them as she was already interrupting him. "Don't say no," she demanded, clenching her teeth. "I need this."

"I want to," he murmured tenderly. "I want to but-"

"Please, no buts," she pushed, her voice gaining a hysterical edge.

"Babe-"

"This grounds me, Toby," she elucidated, imploring him to understand . "Especially right now. I need this, please."

"You don't know," he disagreed sensitively. "We haven't had sex in three years. You don't know if it would help or if you'd regret it afterwards. And I couldn't live with myself, knowing that I-"

"How are you not even tempted?" She bellowed, her tone biting. "I'm literally naked, sitting on top you and you aren't even tempted right now."

"I'm tempted, Spencer," he corrected, his voice growing louder in volume too. "I want to do this just as much as you do right now. I don't know how you think this is at all easy."

"Then, just give in. Please," she murmured again, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then to his cheek, then down his jaw line.

Without warning, he lifted her swiftly and effortlessly, flipping her on her back, one hand supporting her as she landed against the mattress, preventing any further pain.

He hovered over her body with his, pulling her legs around his waist. His lips found her's again, hungrily and urgently and their tongues fused together. Spencer's hands began to unbuckle his belt as he moved his mouth to her neck, sucking on the skin there gently. She moaned as he moved even lower, moving his lips down her chest and to her stomach.

And then, he stopped.

Pulling away, he moved to the edge of the bed, waiting for her to follow suit.

She held unwavering, unbreakable eye contact with him, chocolate meeting the sky, both of them still catching their breath.

"I'm always tempted with you, Spence. Even when you're fully dressed and even when we're not together. I will always want you," he swore. She shut her eyes at his somber words, knowing where this was headed. It wasn't a surprise. She'd always known this would be the ultimate outcome, his intentions were too pure to taint. Her boyfriend was utterly incorruptible. "But I'm not going to put my own needs above you. It doesn't matter how much I wish we could, right here and right now. It just isn't right."

He felt his chest ache as he watched her swallow hard, tears leaking out the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, her voice nothing more than a rasp. Humiliation colored her tone as she frantically wiped the liquid salt off her face. "I'm so stupid."

"No," he disputed softly, shaking his head rapidly, so much love in his expression, so much pain and understanding and compassion. "I get it, Spence. I get it."

And he did. Sex was always something they did to express their love. It always had healed their open wounds or their gut wrenching panic. Making love was about more than just the act of sex to them. It was a way to physically express their implicit trust in one another, to find comfort in each other, to feel the other's skin against theirs, to feel like they were the only two people that existed and the rest of the world disappeared into abyss for a few short minutes. They always expressed their love with physical gestures. It was obvious why Spencer would be craving it now.

"I'm so embarrassed," she admitted, saltwater still coursing down her face and Toby was shaking his head before she was even finished.

He tugged her closer, pressing his lips to her shoulder and down her arm. "No," he whispered into her skin. "I love you so much, Spencer, that sometimes it scares me. Actually, that's a lie. It scares me all the time." She sniffled, running her hand under her nose. "And I wish we could do this right now. I wish that more than anything. The last thing I want is for you to be hurt or embarrassed or upset-"

"I shouldn't have pushed this," she lamented, scrubbing her face again. "I just thought it would help. I just want to be normal again."

The cop shut his eyes at her words, as they pierced themselves deep in his gut. "There is not a single thing wrong with you, baby. I swear it."

"Please, forgive me," she cried. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"

"Spence, you didn't do anything wrong-"

"I forced myself on you. I wouldn't take no for an answer. Just like," she swallowed the name down before it could penetrate its way into her brain, drag her down like before, cause another bout of illness.

Fuck her up any further.

"Sweetheart," Toby murmured, holding her eyes in his. "You're nothing like her. I never even thought about that for it second. There is absolutely no comparison."

She nodded, still crying, one step away from harsh sobbing and the cop caught her off-guard as he tugged on the collar of his white t-shirt, stripping it off and then gently pulling it over her head.

"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely, as he smoothed the cotton fabric down. "For everything."


	12. Chapter Twelve

When she woke up the next morning, bright and early, at the brink of six a.m, Toby was already awake and staring at her. His eyes, blue as the sky and the sea, filled with adoration and tender affection.

"Hi," she croaked, her voice still hoarse from the events of the day prior.

"Hey, baby."

"How long have you been awake?" she asked, roughly clearing her throat and rubbing her eyes.

"About an hour," he shrugged, his fingers running through her hair softly.

They'd fallen asleep in their usual position, him spooning her, his arm tucked over her waist, his face buried in her neck. But somehow in the night they'd ended up rolled over and facing each other, his arms still flung across her middle, her legs both between his.

The events of last night still flickered across their brains, like a movie that never evaporated.

The brunette's embarrassment was still present, her indignity still evident in her demeanor.

He didn't comment on it, hoping if he let it go and moved on, so would she.

"How do you feel?" he asked, bringing her hand up to kiss gently, his lips pressing themselves down her palm, over her wrist and forearm.

"Achy," she murmured, a slight element of surprise in her tone. "Faint. And tired. How long did I sleep?"

"Ten or eleven hours."

"What?" She lunged up, despite the way her body protested the action. "How the hell was I out that long? I never sleep more than four hours. Five, if I'm lucky!"

The cop chuckled, sitting up too, kicking the covers back and climbing out of bed, still bleary, despite being awake for an entire hour prior.

"The meds are probably just keeping you out longer," he assured, offering his hand to help her up.

"Tobes, I'm fine," she swore instinctively, her knee jerk reaction.

"Are you sure?" he asked, studying her face carefully. She threw him a sardonic look, causing him to, wisely, backed off. "I'll go take a shower," he murmured as she climbed out of bed, more awkward than him, but still steadier than she'd been in a long time. "Let me know if you need anything."

"I'll just flash you the bat signal if I'm dying," she promised wryly.

"That's my girl," he smirked as he headed towards the bathroom.

She followed behind, needing to relieve herself after eleven hours of sleep.

She made it parallel with the television set before the room began to twirl. "To-Toby," she tried to call out but all that was audible was a faint whine, too high pitch to be recognized as her raspy alto.

Her legs trembled and gave out. She heard her impact with the wall before she felt it and she braced herself for a brutal landing to the carpet.

Instead she felt two sturdy arms wrap around her, just a second before collision, a second too late to completely prevent the fall.

Instead, she toppled over on top of her very loving, but also very solid boyfriend. It wasn't the most comfortable landing, feeling akin to landing on top of a rock, but it beat smacking the back of her already contusioned head on the ground.

"Toby!"

"Are you okay?" he asked first thing, before even making sure he, himself, wasn't hurt.

"Fine," she assured, a little breathless, scooting higher on his torso so that she could brace her elbows on the ground. "What about you? Are you alright?"

He chuckled. "I'm fine, Spence. I'm the one who should be worrying about you, not the other way around."

The brunette snorted, resting her chin on his chest and looking up at him through her long eyelashes. "Try and stop me."

"Hmmm," he hummed, wrapping both arms around his girlfriend suggestively. "This is a romantic position, isn't it?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're such a weirdo."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he murmured, kissing her nose.

"You should probably go take your shower," she suggested evenly, as she pulled herself up and off him, hanging onto the wall as she hobbled towards the table and chair, where his laptop sat. "I'll wait out here for you to be done."

"Do you want to join me?"

She shot him a mordant look. "That's not going to help the sex issue," she pointed out grimly, her mood taking a dive.

He sighed, the lightness dispersing from his expression. "Spence, please don't be embarrassed-"

"I'm fine," she waved off, adverting her eyes to the cop's laptop in front of her. "Seriously. Go, shower. I'll be okay for twenty minutes."

He made a face. "Twenty minutes? What exactly do you expect me to be doing in there?"

She shrugged, fighting a smile now. "I just figured since we weren't having sex, you'd need-"

"Spence," he cut off, laughing now, somewhat baffled by the innuendo.

"Sorry, just trying to be sensitive to your needs."

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. "I'll be in the shower," he called over his shoulder.

"Twenty minutes is your limit!"

"Goodbye, Spencer."

"Oh, wait!" she halted, remembering something. "I almost forgot. Last night I was thinking I should send thank you notes to all the people who sent flowers to me in the hospital."

He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, waiting for the inquiry. "That sounds like a nice thing to do."

"Except I don't have everyone's address," she explained.

His brow furrowed. "I doubt I would if you don't?"

"Well, do your parents still live in that same house?"

"Like they would ever leave," he laughed humorlessly. "They'd get their groceries delivered if they could."

"Did Dean say where he lived?"

"No, but I'm sure your mom would know."

"And what about Mrs. Ackard?"

"I think it's the same as it was five years ago?"

She took in a deep breath as subtly as she could, anticipating his reaction to her next question. "And where do Yvonne's parents live?"

Just as she imagined, the name alone changed his manner completely. She couldn't help but narrow her eyes, the brunette's entire attitude shifting as well.

"I'll make you a list in a bit," he promised finally, his voice now strained as he turned to walk back into the bathroom, avoiding her eyes.

"What is it, Toby?" She demanded, her voice akin to a frustrated groan.

He spun around to look at her. "What?"

"Why is it that every time Yvonne's name comes up, you get this look in your eyes," she trailed off, volume fading from her voice as she lost her nerve a bit.

He stared at her for a long moment, speechless and startled. "What're you talking about? What look?"

"This dejected look. You get this sad, miserable expression that . . . that I used to only see when I was hurting," she admitted, her gaze abating.

She didn't want to admit it, though it was beyond obvious to both of them now, that her words were fueled by envy, no matter how irrational it was. Toby was here with her. He'd just about adjusted every single aspect of his life, just to be with her, to cater to her needs above even his own. And yet, she couldn't shake this feeling every time the raven haired beauty's name came up.

It was embarrassing to own her jealousy of another girl. A girl who could have been his wife. A girl he looked at with so much warmth and respect and infatuation. A girl who had all of her good qualities and not a single of her bad.

A girl who was essentially everything she wasn't.

"Spence," he whispered, his eyes now even more forlorn than before.

"Why is she such an elephant in the room between us?" She pressed, her tone even. She was trying to be understanding but the quiet frustration in her voice was unmistakable.

"She isn't important," he persisted, visibly working to make his voice convincing.

That sparked a fired inside Spencer. "That's exactly what people say when the person they're talking about _is_ important!"

He shook his head, struggling to find a rebuttal. "That isn-"

"Do you still love her?" The brunette beseeched, holding no inquisition back now. "Do you miss her? Do you wish you and her were still together?"

She was posing the questions like atrocious scenarios truthfully, had he said yes to any of them, as searing of pain as that would have caused, akin to ripping her heart out of her chest, she would have still understood. She would have understood if he chose Yvonne over her, even on the brightest and most brilliant day of her life. There was no question who was better suited to give him the life he deserved.

And she wanted that for him. She wanted him, so badly, to have a life full of blissful happiness. She wanted him to never see the dark side of the world, ever again, after all that he had already endured in his twenty-four years. After everything he'd been put through. All the pain and suffering, all the heartache, and neglect and abuse he'd survived. He, if no one else she knew, deserved to have a joyous, carefree life. She wanted him to thrive and get everything he'd ever dreamed of and never be forced to withstand the things he had as a teenager.

But she also wanted him. She wanted a life with him. She wanted him fully and completely and as selfish as it was, she wanted him to want a life with her too.

But she knew she wasn't equipped to give him that life. Even before her abduction, even before she became a character straight out of _Girl, Interrupted_ , she was far from what he truly deserved.

She was so lost, so deep, inside her self-deprecating thoughts that she barely noticed how Toby's expression had shifted.

He looked as if he was staring dead in the face of a stranger, so baffled, so confused, so bewildered, it almost made her retract her statement altogether. She contemplated the notion for a moment that she'd imagined the whole thing, that this was just paranoia and exhaustion from all she'd been through as of late.

But she knew, deep inside her bones, that this wasn't in her head.

"Do you?" she asked again, and her voice was entirely void of the earlier fire. All that remained was an unsteady, half-broken murmur.

"No," Toby refuted with unexpected vigor. "No, no, God no, Spence."

Relief filled her stomach, his reaction alleviating some of her insecurity.

It didn't answer any of her questions, didn't quench her curiosity, didn't lessen her need to pry the truth from his stubborn bubble gum pink lips, but it gave her a sense of calamity that she was afraid to ask for.

"Spencer Hastings," he breathed again and this time he propelled himself forward, dropping to his knees so they could be at eye level. "I-I can honestly say that I have never, ever loved anyone like I love you. I don't-how could you even think-"

His watery blues, his heartbroken gleam popped the words out of her mouth. "Because," she sighed, almost afraid to admit the words reeling around inside her brain, even after all they'd confessed as it was. "You're always looking so heartbroken whenever she comes up. Sometimes, I don't know," she adverted her eyes downwards, failing once again, just like she did every time she said anything vulnerable or exposing in his presence, to look him in the eye. "Sometimes it just seems like you'd rather be with her."

He sucked in a shallow breath, his eyes narrowing incredulously. "Babe," he whispered, but couldn't maintain his voice, the breath disappearing from his lungs with the heartbreak that came with every new word she uttered.

"Just. . .when you hear her name, it's like a light goes off and she changes you. Like the idea of not being with her cripples you."

The cop absorbed that, not speaking again for minutes on end. He stared straight ahead at her lap, not angry, not irritated, but trying to find his footing as he took in her words.

Her head snapped towards him as he finally broke the silence. "All I feel towards Yvonne is absolute and undeniable guilt," he confessed, raising his head to meet her gaze.

"Guilt?" Her brows knit together, wholly confused what he meant by that.

She knew he felt bad about breaking the darker girl's undoubtedly fragile heart. Toby felt bad about killing spiders, for crying out loud. But _this_ , this remorse, was incomprehensible to her. How could he feel that guilty about dumping his ex?

As if, like she'd thought yesterday, they held a telepathic connection, he knew what she was thinking. "Not guilt for breaking up with her. Not exactly," he explained, his voice growing stronger as he gained momentum in his speech. "I feel guilty for exactly how happy I am every single damn time I look into your beautiful eyes and kiss you. How ecstatic I am to hold you in my arms again and think how I never have to let you go. Okay, Spencer, even in the absolute worst circumstances imaginable, I have never felt more in love than I do right now. I love you more and more and more every day and I feel so fucking contrite because I have no regrets for a single thing I've done. I put you above her and I can't help but be thankful that I did. And it makes me feel like a horrible person, because she didn't deserve to spend years of her life with someone who could do this to her-"

"Toby," Spencer cut off, her eyes so full of love, her mouth completely disconnected from her brain as she processed his words, let them seep into her brain. "Babe," she whispered, fervently, and without preamble, without warning, without any indication, she flew at him and folded herself into his arms.

"I'm so sorry," he swore, both his arms wrapping around her so tight, the air was squeezed out of her lungs. "I am so sorry. I never thought you would-I didn't realize I was giving you that ide-"

"No," she cut off, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

He pressed his lips to the gash on the corner of her mouth, moving upwards to her cheek, trailing to her temple. "I love you," he whispered against her skin. "I love you more than anything."

She didn't respond verbally, instead choosing to bury her face in his shoulder, pressing her mouth to his chest, one, two, three times, four.

"I'm sorry, Spencer," he whispered again and before she could halt any more apologies, he was murmuring more. "I'll do better, alright? Please. I swear, I will be better. Give me another chance to prove to you-"

"Toby," she gasped, pulling back to look into his crystal blue irises. "Y-you don't think I'm going to leave you, do you?"

Some girls would have been delighted to see their boyfriend beg and crawl like that, see them cry and plead for a second chance. But that wasn't appealing to Spencer. It didn't make her feel happy or satisfied to see him beg for forgiveness, and it never had.

She wondered in her head, when did he become so repentant? He'd always been more than apologetic on the rare occasion when he'd done something wrong, even unintentionally, but he'd never been so gravely desperate for forgiveness, and it left her feeling bizarrely guilty, like she was turning him into an abused dog who cried even when he really didn't pee on the floor.

"I love you," she whispered back, fervently pressing her lips to his, despite how sore her mouth was now the medication was officially wearing off. "I'm right here. I'm not going to leave," she vowed. "I promise you. I never will."

* * *

They stayed in that position, cuddled together, her entirely in his arms, on the rough, piercing carpet for more than an hour before both of them moved. Toby wordlessly took her hand, guiding her towards the bathroom, the issue of sex nearly forgotten in both their brains as they discarded their clothes, and quickly showered under the hot cascading water.

As they were drying off, a loud chirping filled the room and Spencer eyed the cop, confused. "My cell," he offered, pulling on a pair of jeans and heading out of the bathroom to retrieve the device.

"If it's my mother, I swear to-"

He shook his head, attempting to hide his instinctual discomfort. "It's Ali."

"Ali? What is she calling for?"

"I don't think she knows you have your phone back."

"You think it's for me?"

He gave her a derisive look. "It's definitely not for me," he assured, pressing the phone into her hands and picking up his wet towel from the ground.

"Hello?" The brunette greeted, her tone still hesitant.

"Spence!" Alison's voice called through the speaker.

"Hey."

"I haven't talked to you since. . .you know. I feel so awful for ignoring you. How are things?"

Spencer shut her eyes, knowing her circumstances were truly dire if Alison Dilaurentis was being so sugary sweet.

In truth, she loved Alison more than she led on. The girls had a long and a very tremulous history but for some reason, Alison was one of the people she'd never been able to completely detach from. She was a part of her family, even when she hated the girl with every fiber of her being.

But, though the blonde had changed significantly from the mean girl she'd once been, she was still incredibly inconsiderate at times and inherently self-centered. She would do anything to protect her friends but she would also ask them to chew off their left arm if it benefited her in the end.

That's why her seemingly sincere concern for Spencer's well-being and her remorse for being preoccupied in her own issues, caught the brunette completely off-guard.

"I. . .I don't know?" the brunette answered honestly. "Things for me have been chaotic." And that was putting it lightly.

"Same," Alison agreed and Spencer realized the blonde wasn't the only one caught up in her own problems.

"Oh my god, Alison! How are _you_?" She reverted the question. "How are you doing? The girls said-"

Hanna and Emily hadn't actually said much but it didn't matter, as Alison cut her off then, "that my aunt-sorry, correction-that my mother's twin sister that I never heard of in my entire life, showed up out of the blue?"

Spencer's mouth fell open. "What?"

"Yeah, that was my reaction too. Evidently her and my mom didn't have a good-or even civil-relationship. My mom got her sent away to Radley."

"What?" The brunette repeated, her eyes widening further as images of the outdated, archaic hospital filled her mind.

"That's not all, Spence. Mary knows your dad."

" _What_?"

* * *

After an hour of talking straight, Spencer torpidly ventured out of the bathroom, still clad in her towel.

"What'd Ali have to say?" Toby asked, glancing up from his laptop.

She shrugged, still reeling, as she pulled on the shirt he'd worn yesterday. "A lot. Her family is. . ." she trailed off, making her way over to him.

"Hmm?" he hummed as he closed the laptop and reached for her waist.

She sat on his lap, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Jessica's twin sister, Mary Drake, came to town right around the time I was in the hospital. She apparently never met Jason or Ali or-"

"Wait," he cut off, a hand squeezing her arm lightly. "Mary Drake? The woman from the file we found on your mom's Election Night? With Mona? After I power sawed through a wall?"

"Um, excuse you, _I_ power sawed through a wall, thank you very much."

"Spence."

She sighed, digressing. "Yeah, I know. It's weird," she agreed.

He narrowed his eyes, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist. "Why would she come to town right after we found her Radley file?"

"I don't know. All I know is she is apparently Jessica with brown hair."

" _Brown_ hair?" Toby picked that word. "No one in that family has brown hair."

"Maybe the Drake's do."

The cop shook his head. "That's so bizarre."

Spencer laughed humorlessly. "It gets worse, babe."

"How?"

"Apparently Mary knows my dad."

Toby's mouth fell open, much like her's had an hour prior. "Your dad had an affair with Mary too?"

"Alison doesn't know for sure, but. . . she thinks so."

"Oh my god," he shook his head, baffled. "How many hidden secrets can one family have?"

The brunette snorted. "And I thought the Hastings were messed up. Imagine if you were dating a Dilaurentis."

"Technically a Drake," he amended dryly.

"It's my job to correct others, not be corrected."

A loud laugh fell from his full pink lips. "I would love you no matter who you were related to," he promised, rubbing her arm for emphasis. "Besides, I come from a. . ."

"Jackass father?" she finished for him when he trailed off.

He smirked. "And somehow, you manage to love me anyway."

"Of course, I do. How is your dad, by the way?"

"He's fine," the cop answered too quickly.

She studied his face for a moment. "When was the last time you two spoke?"

The sandy brunette shrugged, his eyes on his pointer finger tracing circles on her thigh. "A couple days ago. I returned his call when you fell asleep."

"What'd he have to say?" she pressed gently, her eyebrows drawing together. She always approached the subject of his father with caution. He was Toby's only living parent and despite how much she detested the way he treated his only son, she knew it hurt Toby when she openly bashed him.

He shrugged again but his sad, guilty eyes gave him away. "My dad never really says too much, Spence."

"He thinks you're ruining your life by getting back together with me," she guessed, her eyes narrowing now. "He told you I'm nothing but drama with a stuck-up family, holding you back and that I'm an awful person that's sucking the life out of you. Didn't he?"

Toby swallowed, about to refute her assumption but it was too late. His face read like a book. One second of eye contact was all the confirmation she needed.

"You always look sad when you lie," she noted, quietly, shifting her eyes to avoid his.

The fact that his dad disliked her wasn't new, per se, but it still wasn't anything she easily got used to. The fact that the man, who had given life to the person she loved most in this world, detested her elicited a deep, involuntary ache in her chest.

Toby watched her expression, watched her try to mask the hurt she felt, and he pressed a delicate kiss to her cheek, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Sweetheart," he whispered gently, "what my father thinks doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," she disagreed. "He's your _father_."

The cop stared at her face, his turn now to study her expression. "Remember when you first got out of the dollhouse? Whenever someone would say something rude or insensitive or careless and I got angry, you would swear up and down that what strangers thought of you didn't mean anything. Spencer, you taught _me_ that."

She offered a half smile, knowing he was right on all accounts. "I guess," she met his eyes, his sensitive, expressive blue eyes, "I guess, it depends who's talking."

Toby squeezed his eyes shut before he dropped his face into her neck, nuzzling her gently. "Don't do that. Don't give him free rent in your brain. He doesn't know you. All he knows is what Jenna and her mom tell him."

She nodded, accepting his words, knowing he was right. "What do you say? When your dad says those things about me?"

The cop pulled back, bringing his head up to touch his forehead to her's. "I tell him I'm in love with you. That you are the most important thing in my life and if he can't accept that, he can save his minutes."

At his statement, a ghost smile appeared on her face. Still, she insisted quietly, "I don't want to be the reason you and your dad stop speaking."

"You're not," he promised. "He still calls every so often to make sure I'm still alive. And to criticize me."

"What does he say when you defend me?" the brunette inquired, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing herself even closer to him now.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" she repeated, perplexed. "He critiques me and then when you defend me, he has nothing to say back?"

"My dad doesn't know _what_ to say," Toby stated evenly. "He can't relate to how I feel about you. He's never loved anyone more than he's hated himself."

* * *

"Get dressed," Toby commanded, smacking her butt as he walked by, causing her to jump.

They hadn't even been in the same room a minute ago, him still at his laptop, her brushing her teeth in the bathroom, both distracted by their own individual tasks.

"Why?" she asked, her voice gargled by toothpaste.

He ran a washcloth underneath the faucet before wringing it out and running it over every inch of his face, soothingly. "Because there's an open house I just saw for an apartment." His eyes met her's, catching her staring as he set the wet rag down. "What?"

"You've always done that," she noted, gesturing with her chin towards the washcloth, a nostalgic twinge in her voice. At his expression, she elaborated, "You've always wiped your face with a damp rag before we went anywhere."

He looked downwards, his smile mirroring her's. "I can't believe you still remember that. You always looked at me like it was so weird," he laughed, shaking his head.

"I didn't get it," she defended, chuckling. "I've never seen anyone else do it."

"It feels good!" he insisted. "Remember when you were sick that one summer and I ran a damp cloth across your face to get you fever down? And you said-"

"Yes, I remember," she interrupted, still smiling in spite of her playful eye roll. "I just don't know how you even got in the habit of that."

His smile changed then, morphed into a slightly more dismal expression. His tone grew wistful, the dull ache of a badly healed wound evident. "My mom," he said, his glance flitting across the bathroom, unsure how to maintain eye contact when speaking about the life he'd had with his mom, before Spencer was even a whisper in his brain. "She used to wipe my face every time we went in public anywhere. I was kind of a messy eater and. . . you know, old habits die hard, I guess. When she wasn't around anymore, I thought if. . . if I kept doing it. . ."

"I know, baby," she whispered, reaching out and taking his hand in her's, lacing their fingers together. Without another word, he pulled the brunette towards him, gathering her small frame to his chest. She inhaled and exhaled through her nose, absorbing the smell of cinnamon and wood and aftershave. Pressing her lips to his chest, exactly where his heart laid beating, she whispered, "Your mom would be so proud of you if she could see you now, Toby. She'd be so proud."

* * *

"Oh my god, look at that wooden side panel, Tobes!" Spencer exclaimed, trying to keep her excitement subdued, though it was nearly leaking out with every action. "And look at how the trim on the ceiling fades perfectly into the color of the walls and how it matches the closet door."

"I see," the cop chuckled, his spirits elated from witnessing his girlfriend so happy.

Her smiles were few and far between lately, and though he knew it had nothing to do with him, though he knew that their reconciliation only brought her happiness and strength, he couldn't help but feel like his heart was being ripped out with every tear that coursed down her cheek.

"Look at the curtains!" she pointed, practically dragging him with her as other potential leasers moved aside, seeing the two of them coming. "And the color of the window pane matches with the carpet."

He pressed a kiss to her hair, as she continued to point out every single detail she liked.

"Are you sure we can't get in any sooner?" the cop heard, from the main room, sharp ears being a feature he'd attained over the years in his law enforcement career.

"No, sir, I'm sorry. Not for a least three more months," the realtor-a seemingly inflexible man-stipulated.

His voice was low and rang out clear enough that even Spencer heard him over her own excitement.

She abruptly cut herself off. "Oh," she murmured, her demeanor deflating like a popped balloon.

He met her eyes with a heartbroken gaze. "Spence-"

"Its fine," she waved off, hiding her disappointment unsuccessfully. "It doesn't matter. It's just a stupid apartment."

"You love it," he fought weakly. "I knew you would. I knew it was a perfect fit. That's why I jumped on the ad as quick as I did."

"Tobes, it's okay. We need to find a place to move in sooner. Alright, we don't have the money to live in a motel for that long and it'd be stupid to move into somewhere else for only a couple of months," the brunette reasoned.

He gave her a pitifully, forlorn smile, knowing she was trying to put on a brave face for him.

She had been doing so much of that for so long. She'd tried to always remain strong and secure, a backbone for everyone she loved to lean on, even when her own heart was crumbling or her mind was destroying her from the inside out. Spencer had always put others before herself, no matter what it cost her.

And she had been through so much, especially lately. The fact that it seemed like she couldn't have one good thing, one thing that made her happy, literally burned a fire inside of him.

Without preamble, without pondering the action, Toby grabbed Spencer's hand and headed towards the realtor in the living room. "Excuse me?" the twenty four year old addressed.

Spencer stared at him, completely caught off-guard, by what he was doing.

"Yes?" the older man raised an eyebrow, a false smile spreading across his lips. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," Toby kept his voice even and pleasant. "I'd like to know when the soonest possible date we could move in is?"

The answer was rehearsed and automatic. "In about four months," the graying man informed, smiling still as if they were old friends. He reminded Toby of one of the people he met when he accompanied Spencer on dinners to the club with her family.

The cop used the skills he'd learned over the last few years and pretended those words were a surprise. "Shoot, we need a place to stay sooner than that," he looked at Spencer, playing his part.

She smirked up at him, catching on. Her eyes stayed on his face, softening by the second, in total awe of his dedication to her. No one else had ever done so much, just for her happiness. That was all he wanted, her to be happy. It was incomprehensible to her that he was even real sometimes, let alone that he existed in the direst circumstances.

"I'm sorry, sir," the realtor's face fell ever so slightly, his facade slipping down a little. "I can't permit a new tenant until the old ones are out and they said they needed a few months."

"And what if we pay double the first and last month's deposit?" Toby challenged, causing his girlfriend's mouth to fall open.

The man blinked once then twice before sticking out his hand, surprised by the offer. "My name is Martin Kayn," he greeted evenly, eyeing the couple now.

"Toby Cavanaugh," the sandy brunette took his hand with his free one that wasn't resting on Spencer's waist. The older man's eyes changed subtly as the name seeped in, something unintelligible flickering in his gaze.

"And you are?" he asked, turning to meet Spencer's chocolate orbs.

"Spencer," she offered simply, leaving out her last name altogether, aware of the chance of recognition.

Martin cleared his throat, turning back to Toby. "Well, I'd have to present the offer to the current tenants, but there's a possibility this could persuade them."

The cop's face morphed into a grin as he felt Spencer's hands tighten around his arm, her chin resting on his shoulder.

A small, minuscule part of him felt somewhat like Peter Hastings, throwing money around to solve any given problem in his path. But that small, minuscule part of him that felt uncomfortable and disturbed was muted by his girlfriend's smile, the light filling back into her eyes, the ease in her body language. If this, even for a split second, gave her peace, gave her _something_ to look forward to, _something_ to be happy about, then he'd do whatever it took to make it work, no matter how awkward it felt.

Because she, above everything else, was what mattered to him.

* * *

"I'm going to go look around, babe," Spencer whispered into his shirt, pressing her lips there.

"Okay," he murmured, loosening his arm around her waist as he kept his eye on the realtor, now engaging in a conversation on his cell phone.

She held onto his hand as she headed into the opposite direction of the house, until the distance was too great and they had to let relinquish their hold on each other.

The brunette found strange comfort in seeing the near dozen people, scattered across the house, a few shuffling in and a few shuffling out every couple minutes. It gave a strange boost to her confidence and it dawned on her rapidly why.

Her parents and Dr. Barnes both stated she couldn't be in crowds, because it may trigger her after the large amount of people in the massacre.

They were wrong. They thought they knew everything, they treated her like an inept child who didn't even know herself, they made her feel like an inferior, and here she was, proving them wrong.

She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face, in spite of the fact that she was in an open house full of strangers and was currently wandering room from room, completely alone.

"Ugh," an aristocratic woman in her mid-fifties groaned, motioning out the window.

"What is it?" the man next to her inquired.

"Look at that," she pointed disdainfully.

Spencer crept up towards them, peering out to see what the woman was going on about.

Outside stood two males, about Spencer's age, early to mid-twenties. They looked like they were just talking, their expressions unreadable, until one swung back and aimed for the other, narrowly missing the jaw.

Unlike the woman next to her, the brunette found the spectacle amusing. This apartment complex was in a higher class neighborhood. The residents were members of the same club as her parents, a lot of them were active members of the congregation and the women were probably all invited to Melissa's baby shower.

And yet, no matter where you go, there were immature men, fighting as if no one else was watching, as if there were no consequences, as if violence was always the answer.

She pursued her lips, thinking about Toby, thinking of all the things that had been done to him, all the hurt he'd suffered, all the maltreatment and yet, he _rarely_ resorted to violence.

The brunette's eyes stayed indolently on the two men, aiming unsuccessfully at each other, when she was ripped out of her thoughts at the sight of a punch finally making contact and one of the men smacking the concrete.

_She was running down a hall. An empty, dark, unnerving hall. She was sprinting as if her life depended on it._

_It did._

_"Get back here," she heard a man growl, his voice familiar. So familiar it twisted her stomach painfully, forcing her to come to a halt to keep herself from gagging. "I said, get back here!"_

_"No," she gasped, her tone completely and entirely hopeless, as his hands gripped her forearms. "Please, don't hurt me."_

_Without a response, without an acknowledgment, she was thrown straight into the ground, her hands flying up to unsuccessfully protect the back of her head from making impact with the cold tile floor._

_She shut her eyes as she felt him come closer, towering over her, suddenly feeling her stomach drop as she registered all he could do to her in that position._

_Her breathing hitched as she felt him creep above her, his hands so close now she could practically feel them on her skin. "Please," she cried one last time, as she felt him yank her upper body off the ground, like a lifeless rag doll, whatever she'd been previously drugged with still flowing through her system._

_She glued her eyes shut, her natural, uncontrollable reaction to forced trauma, unintentionally allowing herself to be caught off-guard as he pulled back and swung, landing a harsh punch straight to her eye._

_Her scream was muffled by her fraught, powerless cry. She'd never felt like this. She'd never been this far out of control, this far away from the ability to save herself. She'd never been this helpless before in her life. Not even inside the dollhouse._

_Her howls were still filling the room as he stood up again, taking a step back. She knew he wasn't done, not by a long shot, but she didn't have time to brace herself for the impact, to pry her injured eye open and make herself see what he was doing._

_She couldn't even stand to look him in the face, knowing who he was now, knowing what he'd done._

_Her body recoiled before she truly felt the harsh kicks, numerous kicks, straight to her abdomen._

_Her loud, tortured scream erupted into the air, deafening anyone within thirty yards. Her throat protested in response, feeling like it was being ripped apart, like it was going to split open and gush blood any second now._

_Even in her wholly petrified mind, she wondered, why no one outside this building could hear her? Why not a single soul was coming to see what was wrong? Why no one was calling nine-one-one?_

_"Shut up!" he ordered, his voice rising to try to muffle her's._

_But she refused to be silenced. If she was going down, she would never go without a fight. It wasn't who she was and it wasn't who she would ever allow herself to be. She wouldn't let him to take from her._

_If she never made it out of this building, she was going to die fighting._

_When she refused to comply, refused to stop her harrowing shrieks, refused to be silenced even minimally, the man's tactic changed and suddenly, without a hint of a warning, there were hands wrapped around her throat, pressing down._

_"I told you," he murmured, his voice as lethal as his actions, "to shut the fuck up."_

_His hands tightened and breathing became an unfeasible task. "Please," she tried to beg, attempting to raise her hands, attempting to plea for her oxygen._

_But it was all futile. He wasn't going to stop until he, himself, decided to stop._

_Black spots filled her already impaired vision, the need to cough overwhelming but the ability nonexistent. She felt her face growing hot, her limbs numbing and the world around her moving in slow motion._

_And all she could see was him._

_He was the ringleader._

_He was the one in charge._

_And he had a knife in his hands, ready to kill._

* * *

"Spencer," Toby exclaimed, grasping both of her shoulders.

Somehow, someway, she'd ended up flat on her back, laying on the ground of the apartment, strangers all around her, staring at her in horror.

She heard a desperate, cacophonous cry, and something thrashing against the wood floor and, deep inside her subconscious, she wondered who she'd frightened.

It took her next to no time to realize that those sounds were coming from her.

She didn't realize she was thrashing until Toby had her wrapped up in his arms, folding her into him so tightly she couldn't move if she tried.

Her ears popped and she heard her own screams of fear, with crystal clarity now. "Toby," she sobbed and he squeezed her even tighter to him.

"What's wrong with her?"

"What the fuck?"

"Someone did call nine-one-one, right?"

"Is she epileptic?"

"No, you idiot. She's schizophrenic."

"Be quiet!"

"Is an ambulance on its way?"

It was Toby's voice though that really shocked her. "Do not call nine-one-one or anyone else," he ordered through clenched teeth, his arms still wrapped protectively around Spencer's shaking form.

"What the hell just happened?" Martin Kayn pressed, stepping out of the crowd.

"Back away from her," the cop commanded, bypassing the question altogether. When it came to Spencer, when she was in trouble, no one had the power to intimidate him anymore. His timidity instinctually paled when it came to her needs.

"Toby," the brunette cried again, swallowing hard, feeling her throat as if for the first time, trying to erase the muscle memory from her brain of someone strangling her.

"Take your time, baby," he murmured, his voice soft and low, only for her. "It's okay. Everything's okay."

She heaved, narrowly choking back the urge to vomit.

 _Not here, not now_ , she thought to herself. She was humiliated enough as it was, screaming and crying and spazzing out in the middle of the open house.

"I'm sorry," she cried, her vision still swirling. "I'm so sorry."

It took her a minute to realize she was apologizing to Martin, the man whose open house she'd wrecked. There was no way anyone would want the apartment where they'd watched a girl lose her fucking mind.

"Spence, it's okay," Toby whispered in her ear, pressing a kiss there. "Just calm down."

Embarrassed by her breakdown, embarrassed by her still quivering limbs, her uncontrollable sobs, her violent thrashing, she burrowed deeper into her boyfriend's arms and tried to pretend she was invisible.

The concept lasted a total of fifteen seconds as the realtor spoke then, a sudden recognition entering his voice.

"You're the little girl from the news?" Martin Kayn stated, utter disbelief obvious in his tone. "You both are," his said again, his eyes sweeping between the trembling brunette and the cop holding her for dear life. "They did news stories on you two." he continued.

"Okay, enough," Toby halted, his voice desperate and fierce and almost unrecognizable as the shy, altruistic cop he'd once been, before her issues had blown his life to pieces.

"You were one of the girls kidnapped and tortured in a bunker when you were younger," the graying man continued as if the twenty-four year old hadn't spoken. "They did a two hour special on 20/20 about you. They showed you two hugging after you escaped that place and they've been showing on every news station him carrying you out of the building-"

"Stop!" Toby yelled, the level of his voice shocking all their onlookers and stealing the voice away from the oblivious, inconsiderate man.

The second the words left his mouth, his head was turned downwards again, as if looking away from her for a second ached.

"T-Toby," she whispered, her voice a shell of what it'd been a half hour ago.

"Yes?" he breathed, his eyes somehow both tender and alert.

She opened her mouth to speak, to explain that the world was still blurred all around her, explain that she needed help to move because she couldn't stop shaking, explain that she couldn't even see straight, that she could feel every single eye on her, that she just wanted to flee this place and all the stares and just _go_ , when abruptly, just like it had happened every time before, her stomach retched and instantly the contents were displayed on the ground before them.

* * *

She didn't speak the entire way back. She didn't say a word as Martin Kayne stared at her, open mouthed or as she received an outpouring of sympathies from complete strangers or as her boyfriend wrapped her up in his arms and got her the hell out of there as fast as he could.

She didn't say a word all the way back to the Edgewood Motor-Court, despite the fact that Toby was the last person who deserved the silent treatment. The way he showed her nothing but understanding and compassion was awe-worthy at this point, for the fucked up disaster she'd become.

Her shaking had dissipated, her screaming had stopped, but the tears still ran down her cheeks, without reprieve.

She hated herself. She hated how she couldn't get a handle on her attacks, how the smallest things triggered her, how the more time passed, the more she proved the doctors and her parents right.

She hated, above all else, how Toby felt guilt for her episodes. "I'm sorry, babe," he whispered at a stoplight, reaching out to wipe her tears with his thumb.

Once they'd arrived back at the motel, Spencer didn't wait for him, throwing her door open and breaking nearly into a sprint, wanting to get inside the room as quickly as possible.

It didn't even occur to her that she was moving, without a single stumble or trace of dizziness at all.

She hadn't been off-balanced in hours.

The small fact that would have delighted her not long ago only brought her minor pleasure, in light of the chilling memory that'd just came back, the awful recollection she had now that she couldn't make sense of, couldn't even begin to wrap her head around to understand.

This was different from every other memory that had come back to her. It wasn't as if she was seeing something for the first time. It was as if she were reliving it.

She remembered the feeling of knowing who the ringleader was. She remembered they were male, remembered the sting of betrayal and humiliation and hurt. She remembered everything she felt in those few minutes that had resurfaced in her brain.

But she couldn't see the face. It was as if she were staring through a piece of stained glass. She was seeing an image that was completely indefinite and undistinguished.

She couldn't retain the voice or the touch or the smell or any identifiable thing. It was as if she had lost all her senses while trapped in that building.

She heard her boyfriend come into the room, in no hurry to race after her, clearly aware that she was in her right mind again.

How did he know these things about her? How could he just _sense_ them? How could he understand her, like she was an extension of him, when she couldn't even get a grasp on herself?

"Baby," was the first word that he uttered, sitting next to her on the edge of the bed.

Without warning to her brain, her mouth ejected a small whimper, more mortified than frightened.

No, her terror didn't have a sound. There was no resonance that the human mouth could elicit, no noise a brain could conjure up that would be able to convey how she felt, every single time she was taken back to that night.

What made it so much worse, was that she was alone in hell. In every other situation she'd encountered in the past, even the most frightful and ghastly of them, she had always had the girls as a support system.

She didn't blame them for not being there. How could she? This wasn't high school any longer and they all had their own adult lives. This wasn't the -A that had been after them before. This new person wasn't one for a continuous game, a constant cat and mouse chase.

No, this person wanted a big impact. They planned out their big attacks and then allowed the aftereffects to run their course, knowing that mentally isolating them from everyone in their lives, that forcing them to witness things that would psychologically tear them apart, that obliterating their lives, aspect by aspect, was much more effective.

Spencer realized then, that she had been leaving one person out in this equation. She wasn't alone. Not if she didn't force herself to be. Not if she didn't punish herself for things beyond her control, shut down and close herself off.

She had Toby. She had someone who loved her, more than was humanly conceivable, more than was healthy. She had someone who would do absolutely anything for her, no questions asked, and she was allowing this entire ordeal to push him away.

She felt his fingers run through her hair, gently, gradually working his way up to touching her. He was feeling her out, seeing where she was and what she needed in that moment.

She needed him.

"Tobes," she whispered, as his hand moved to cup her cheek. He didn't say anything, his eyes just boring deeply into her's, filled with captivated compassion. He was there, willing to do anything for her, willing to be anything she needed him to be. She turned her head and pressed her lips to the palm of his hand. "I love you."

He made a sound akin to a choke and she wondered why those words still elicited genuine surprise in him. "I love you too," he promised, swallowing hard on a lump in his throat.

She didn't realize until then that she had one to match. "I'm sorry I ruined that for us," she mumbled, barley able to keep eye contact.

"No," he disagreed sharply, his voice nearly breaking. He couldn't stop himself then, and his arms coiled around her, pulling her closer to him. "You didn't ruin anything, Spence. Nothing that happened back there mattered."

"They all think I'm off my rocker," she contested and couldn't help but remember his words for only hours ago.

_"Since when do you care what other people think?"_

She didn't used to. It had never matter to her if her nosy neighbors or gossipy middle-aged women believed a bunch of lies about her.

It mattered if what people thought of her, was actually her new reality. It mattered if there really was something wrong with her. If she was crazy or certifiable or demonic. It mattered that she no longer held control over her own life, over her own psyche, her own sanity. It mattered that she had no choice, no warning, no power when she fell apart.

"And they're probably right," she added, her voice muffled as she buried her face in his chest.

His hand rubbed her back silently, massaging the tension out, allowing her to relax into him. Finally, he murmured into her tangled hair, "What other people think doesn't matter. Not to me and you."

She laughed once, humorless. "It's still not fun being the town madwoman. Having everyone look at you like some freak."

She was surprised when he stiffened and stopped kneading her back. "Spence," he started, his tone shifting, giving her a look.

"What?" she matched his expression, her distress momentarily put aside. "Why are you looking at me like I have three heads?"

He laughed now, incredulous. "Because you and I have _always_ been the town freaks," he pointed out, shaking his head. "You were a girl who tried to frame her brother-in-law and I was the boy who everyone crossed the street when they saw coming. And we got together. To other people, we've _always_ been something to talk about."

His words were, so blatant, so unconcealed, so forthright, it elicited a chuckle from deep inside her chest.

He continued, feeling in her body language the tension slowly seeping away. "Everyone already thinks we're weird, babe. Nothing we do, one way or the other, could change that now. And you know what?"

She glanced up at him, narrowing her eyes playfully. "What?"

"It doesn't even matter. Let them think we're weird. Let them think me and you are two psychos or that we're both on our way to the funny farm. Because what a bunch of gossip fueled snobs like our parents think of us isn't our problem. _It never was_."

Her mouth, which had been set in a permanent frown only a matter of seconds ago, involuntarily turned upwards. She leaned her forehead towards his, their noses pressing together. "How do you always know how to make everything seem alright? Even when I feel awful, even when I'm scared out of my mind, even when I don't think I can keep going like this, somehow you always make it okay. You never give up on me. Not even when I give up on me."

His eyes changed, gaining a reflective gleam. "How could I? You're not just the person I love, Spencer. You're my entire family. I couldn't give up on you if I tried. I wouldn't even know how."

Before she could even get a grasp on herself, before she could remember the shameful events of the day, she was kissing him and his hands were on her hips and she was climbing onto his lap, and their tongues were twisting together and nothing else existed until this moment.

The kiss started out as a thank you.

It turned into exactly what they'd both been craving for the last three years.

They didn't kiss long before their clothes were discarded, tossed carelessly aside in piles on the roughly carpeted floor. They didn't take the time to realize what they were about to do, they haven't done in years. They didn't think about the fact that there was no condom or birth control in sight.

They only thought about each other. The feel of the other's skin pressed against theirs. The way words aren't necessary. When they were together like that, they can feel what the other was thinking. The way sex provided both of them with the calm, the serenity, the euphoria that they lack in every other section of their lives. The way the other looks at them, as if they were an angel on Earth, as if they were the world's greatest treasure.

Maybe things were rough. Maybe for them they always would be. But they both knew as long as they had each other, they're never going to be facing it alone.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

The unyielding morning sun peeking through the blinds ripped her out of her slumber, unapologetically.

Before she could complain though, before her mouth would even cooperate, she was instantly acutely aware of her boyfriend's fingertips rubbing the bare skin on her back in circles, trailing down over her ass and legs.

"Mmm," she murmured instead, sleep still prevalent in her voice. "That feels nice."

He didn't say anything in response, but she heard his almost silent, blissful chuckle that always accompanied his genuinely elated smile. The smile she mostly saw when the tragedies in their lives were halted to a minimum. The smile she pretended only ever existed for her.

Her emotions, for once, matched his, as the events the day prior came back to her. After their first time, their first love making in over three years, they'd laid, basking in each other, for nearly an hour before going at it again. And again. And again. Until they'd realized they'd forgone all but one meal of the day and ordered the entire _Sarrono_ 's dinner menu.

She'd fallen asleep, after one last round, entirely on top on him, exhausted and full and more relaxed than she thought she'd ever been and more soothed than she believed she'd ever be again. Even all things considered.

Her ecstasy, her pure euphoria, that had only and always appeared whenever she was truly with the man that she loved with everything inside of her, had lasted all night and carried through into the morning.

That was, until she decided to roll over.

"Ah!" she yelped, clutching her side, unsure where she was even trying to grasp, so much of her body suddenly in distress.

"Spence," Toby's tone shifted to one of terror, panic seeping into every inch of his body. "Spencer, what is it?"

His palm made contact with her shoulder and another cry slid from her lips. "It hurts," she moaned, grinding her teeth.

His skin paled as he stared at her, tears already gathering in his eyes. "Is it-" he cut himself off, shaking his head, his thoughts too awful to vocalize. "Did I hurt you?"

Even in her current distress, she managed to refute his worries immediately, seeing where he mistook her words. "It's not that. I don't hurt _there_."

"Oh," he murmured, embarrassment and slight confusion evident in his voice. " _Oh_. Spence," he realized, his eyes softening as he took in her bare body again, as if seeing her for the first time.

"What?" she demanded, desperate to know what epiphany he'd just had.

"The medication is out of your system. Completely." He ran his hand down the length of her back down, rubbing gently, trying to alleviate a fraction of the discomfort. "Of course you're in pain. I should have realized-"

She narrowed her eyes, cutting him off, her body aching too badly to care she was being grumpy. "They were out of my system yesterday," she disputed. "I didn't feel like this."

"They were _working_ their way out of you," he corrected evenly. " _Now_ they're out."

Her chocolate brown orbs disappeared behind her eyelids. "Fuck," she spat, bringing her palm up to her face only to whimper miserably when it made contact. "Do you think it'll get worse?" She asked, warily.

The cop kissed her hair delicately. "I don't know, baby."

"Great."

"Is there anything I can do to make it better?" he asked, his eyes tortured from her suffering. But it was evident he was still relieved, on some level, that her pain had nothing to do with him, that it wasn't him that caused her pain.

The brunette shook her head, her eyes squeezing shut again as her face and neck screamed out at her, causing frustrated tears to well up in her mocha orbs. Countless places throbbed relentlessly and ruthlessly, all over her entire body.

"We can give you more of your prescription from Dr. Barnes," he offered desperately. "Okay, you don't have to stick with your resolve to stop taking them."

But even in her miserable state, she repudiated. "No," she shook her head, her voice attempting confidence.

"What about half a pill?" It was clear that seeing her like this left him fumbling for a concrete solution. The same way he always had in the past, doing whatever it took to make her life even the slightest bit easier.

"Toby."

"I don't want you to be hurting," he whispered, helpless and exposed, his fingers still gently running through her hair, the one place he knew he could touch her without eliciting further suffering.

"Its okay, Tobes. I'll survive," she promised weakly, resigning herself to suffering through this. She turned slightly, ignoring how her body viciously fought the action.

Toby chuckled humorlessly. "You are not supposed to be comforting _me_ ," he remarked, smirking slightly.

She let out a soft laugh before regretting it as her chest rejected that act too.

The cop saw and brought his lips lightly down to her bare skin.

Oddly enough, the sensation didn't add to the ache but actually diminished a little fragment of it. Feeling her body relax under his mouth, the sandy brunette moved higher, brushing his lips against her collarbone, the side of her neck, underneath her jaw.

When he'd pulled back, she pouted playfully. "Keep going," she ordered, attempting to tug him closer again.

"Spencer."

"It was helping," she insisted. "Let's just stay in bed today and you can keep doing that and we can-"

He cut her off, seeing where this was going. "I don't think sex is going to make your body feel better, sweetheart."

"It might," she argued.

He chuckled, using his hand to sweep her hair back from her face before vaguely complying with her request and bringing his lips to the corner of her mouth, the gash in her forehead, a bruise on her cheek. "Why don't I run us a bath and we'll see if that makes you feel better?" he suggested, his lips still against her tender, soft skin.

She sighed, not requiring excess persuasion. "Okay," she agreed, her smile already returning as he carefully lifted her in his arms and carried her, front to front, into the bathroom.

As he set her down, as gently as humanly possible, the brunette caught a glimpse of her full body reflection in the mirror, for the first time since massacre. Her jaw nearly hit the ground.

"Oh my god."

* * *

"Lean forward," Toby directed, rubbing her back softly with a sopping wet cloth. "Relax."

"I'm trying," she murmured as she took a deep breath in, allowing her boyfriend to continue his ministrations.

He worked the cloth all over her arms and chest before an involuntary howl expelled itself from her mouth. "Did that hurt?" he asked sympathetically, his lips planting a kiss on the back of her neck.

"Yeah," she admitted, her voice wavering. He knew how much she hated admitting weakness. How much pain she must be in to be this upfront about it.

"Come here." He dropped the cloth into the hot water and guided her back, leaning against his chest, her head laid against his neck. He ran his hands up and down her arm, raising goose-bumps in their wake. "Do you feel any better at all?"

"Yeah," she smiled against his throat. It wasn't big but it was genuine and that mattered more to him. "Yeah, I do. Thank you."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her hairline. "I'll always take care of you, Spence."

"I know," she murmured cheekily and her smile turned into a smirk.

"Is the water getting too cold?" he checked abruptly, unwrapping only one arm from around her and testing it with his hand, as if he wasn't engrossed in it.

"No," she rebutted adamantly, pulling his arm back. "You made sure the water was scorching. Even in my opinion."

He gave her a sheepish look. "I just wanted to make sure it was hot enough to help you."

"I know, babe. And it was," she assured. "It was hot enough that polio patients would have had use of their limbs again."

"It's amazing to me that you think Hanna exaggerates more than you."

"That's insulting."

"Truth hurts, my love."

She let out a laugh, a real, authentic, legitimate giggle, before gazing down at her beat up figure once again. "God, how did you manage to find me attractive enough to sleep with last night," she marveled.

"Spencer."

"No, seriously. I knew I was sort of beat up but I didn't have a clue it was this bad. I wouldn't have stripped off all my clothes the other night if I'd known I was covered head to toe in bruises."

"You're not," he disagreed.

"The mirror begs to differ."

When she'd caught a glimpse of her full body in the bathroom mirror, she had been floored by the number of scrapes and bruises laid on her stomach and legs. She'd known from the hospital that she'd obtained cuts and bruises all over her face and neck, some even extending to her chest and arms. But she hadn't anticipated finding countless more, scattered all over her body.

No wonder it hurt so bad to even move.

No wonder the hospital had practically proscribed her morphine.

"There's not as many as you think," he insisted, rubbing her legs tenderly, avoiding placing pressure on the dark bruises. "And how did you not notice them until now? You're losing your detective skills in your old age, Nancy Drew."

She gave him a look. "I'm not the most observant on drugs."

"I thought the drugs were out of your system yesterday?" he shot back.

Instead of a witty comeback, the brunette just grimaced up at him. "I wasn't in this much pain yesterday."

He shut his eyes, his demeanor shifting, as his arms tightened around her. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her for what must have been the thousandth time.

"Not your fault," she murmured back, touching the area around her nose, where she could now _feel_ the slices cut through her delicate skin, feel the slashes around her eyes, feel the angry, battered skin that was splotched across her entire face.

She felt her boyfriend's lips on her forehead, kissing her stitches, and let out a breath she didn't mean to hold.

"They're actually healing really quickly," Toby noted, hoping it would console her.

Of course though, Spencer took the negative approach. "How much worse did I look in the hospital?"

"You didn't-"

"Please, Toby," she cut off, not in the mood to be comforted with well-intended white lies.

He rolled his tongue around his mouth once before answering. "You had a black eye when you were admitted. It's basically gone now. And a lot of your bruises on your stomach have turned purple."

Her brow furrowed. "What the hell were they?"

"Black."

The brunette shuddered against him and he pressed his lips to her hair. She knew he hated telling her these things. He hated having to tell her anything that solidified the reality they were both facing. The horrors that had happened that night, that couldn't be escaped, no matter how much love they had for each other.

He wanted to fix everything for her. After years and years of dedication to alleviate her nightmares, even when they weren't together, she knew it killed a part of him that he had to live with the fact that unspeakable things had been done that night to the person he loved most and he couldn't protect her from them.

She also knew, just by the way he caressed her body, the way he affectionately rubbed her back, the specific places she now realized he'd been kissing all along, that he felt responsible for the physical abuse she'd suffered that night.

In the back of her mind, she made a vow to never tell him about the latest memory that had come back. There was no reason he had to hear about her, quite literally, getting the shit kicked out of her.

No question where the black bruises on her stomach came from.

"They also thought your head wound was a lot more serious when the paramedics first saw you," Toby added, drawing her out of her thoughts and back into reality.

"When the paramedics first saw me?" She snorted. "You mean when you rescued me and _brought_ me to the paramedics?"

He chuckled, somewhat abashed. "I keep forgetting you know about that."

"Well it's a pretty serious thing for someone to do for you. Doesn't happen every day," she teased. "Makes it kind of memorable."

He raised an eyebrow, matching her expression. "Aren't you lucky?"

"I think so," she smirked and raised her head up to kiss him.

The kiss was chaste, as they both knew her body wasn't in the mood for sex. Nonetheless, their mouths moved together in perfect, lazy synchronization, as if this were an old song they were singing, that they'd belted out a million times before. As if they were literally so connected, they could feel the other's thoughts. As if this were their comfort blanket, sheltering them from every awful thing they had to endure out in the world.

When they broke apart, it wasn't because they wanted to. It wasn't because she was in pain. It wasn't because the water was dropping in temperature-which it still was not. It was because a cell phone started to ring and suddenly, the realization that the real world still existed dampened both their moods.

"I'll get it," Toby murmured, resigned to ending their time alone.

He pressed another kiss to her shoulder before slipping out from underneath her and grabbing a supplied towel.

Gripping his shoulder as she hobbled unsteadily onto the bathmat, she complained, "Even living together, someone is always constantly interrupting us."

He snickered as he accepted the call. "Hello?" The cop greeted, reaching for another towel. "Uh, hi, yeah, this is him."

Spencer shot him a questioning look as he wrapped the second towel around her dripping body, but he kept his eyes trained on the ground, listening intently to whoever was on the other line.

Choosing to do something more productive with her time than watch Toby on the phone, the brunette walked-or stumbled would be more accurate- towards the bed, thanking her rare lucky stars that motel rooms were so cramped.

She grabbed her clothes while listening in, like the nosy girlfriend they both openly knew she was. "Thank you so much, sir!" she heard the twenty-four-year old's voice raise an octave. "Thank you!"

Her chocolate brown eyes narrowed into slits, confused about who the hell he was speaking to. Toby was shy and introverted, even on the phone. He wasn't big on exceedingly flamboyant emotions until he practically knew someone, inside and out.

Before Spencer could debate if it was worth the hobble back into the bathroom, she heard her boyfriend's voice sober up. "Before you go, can I ask what changed their minds?"

Almost as if he knew she were listening, he turned on the faucet and-for some reason-decided to get his toothbrush ready to clean his teeth. "Thank you again," he repeated appreciatively as he hung up.

She was still pulling her clothes on when he joined her. "Oh, Spence," he murmured to her, catching her pained expression at attempting to hook her bra. "Why didn't you call me?"

"I got it," she maintained, even though her voice was completely void of volume from lack of breath. Ignoring her words, he carefully hooked her bra before leaning down and planting a kiss in the center of her back. "Thank you," she murmured, contradicting her own self.

"I like helping," he insisted, as she let out a sigh, leaning back against him.

"So who was your friend?" she asked precipitously, looking up at him through her long eyelashes.

"My _friend_?"

"The guy you thanked over and over again on the phone?"

"Oh!" Comprehension flickered across his face, and Spencer was caught off-guard once again by his enthusiasm. "That was Martin Kayne."

"The realtor?" she verified, turning around to stare at him, utterly confused.

"He said we can have the apartment _this_ month, for less rent."

Spencer just stared at him for a long moment, not comprehending. "But I thought-"

"The current tenets agreed," he stated softly, a grin on his lips as she processed the information.

"Are you serious?" she asked as it sunk in.

"Spence, would I be telling-"

"Oh my god! I'm getting my apartment!" she exclaimed, flinging herself straight into his arms, biting back a scream at the way her body rebelled against the action. Her exhilaration brought temporary adrenaline. Enough of it that her emotions outweighed her physical pain.

"Um, I thought we'd both live there."

"Oh yeah, don't worry. You can have a corner."

"Thanks, babe. Your generosity astounds me."

She smirked, pressing a kiss to corner of his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I suppose you can share the bed with me."

"Mmm," he murmured, leaning in to connect their lips once again. "Throw in an old futon and I'm in."

"I'll do you one better. We can even bring your old quilt."

"You know how to get to me."

She giggled as she brought her head back down on his shoulder, planting her lips there too. "Thank you, Toby. For more than just this."

"I didn't do anything," he insisted, rubbing her back. "The tenets just changed their minds."

She stiffened against him, hearing the words for a second time. Something about them felt extremely off, all of a sudden. " _Why_ would they, out of the blue, have a change of heart?" The cop simply shrugged, his hand trailing up into her hair to massage her scalp lightly. "Toby," she pressed, in the demanding tone she reserved only for him.

He sighed, his chest pressed against her's, his hand stilling in her hair. "They may have heard about…what happened during the open house."

Instantly her manner shifted, her excitement evaporating and in its place came her pride and shame. "I can't do that," she stated evenly, her voice quieter now. "We can't move in there."

"Spencer-"

She cut him off, already knowing what he'd say. "Toby, I'm not moving in some place that I'm only getting because I acted like a lunatic!"

"You did _not_ act like a lunatic!"

"I'm not going to be these people's charity case!"

At that, his expression softened. Rubbing both his hands up and down her arms, he shook his head. "You're not anyone's charity case, baby."

His words made her lose her defensive edge. "They're going to take less money and move out faster, because some girl they saw on the news lost her shit during their open house? That's a charity case. Plain and simple."

He reached out to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear, his expression turning introspective. "Do you remember when we sat in your hospital room and read your mail? All the letters you got from random strangers, full of money? Do you remember what I said?"

"What, that people want to help those who have been through hell?"

"Yes. And that doesn't make you a charity case. It makes them nice people."

The brunette sighed, looking down at her lap. He was doing everything he could to ease her shame and all she was doing was being difficult. "I'm really sorry that I'm putting you through all this."

He was shaking his head before she was even finished speaking, his turn now to narrow his eyes. "Don't even start on that, Spence. There is nowhere on this planet I'd rather be than sitting here with you."

She smiled faintly. "I'll think about it," she amended as she leaned back into his arms, her head finding it's place on his chest, right above his heartbeat.

"Okay," he agreed, pressing his lips into her chestnut hair. "That's all I ask."

The cop ran his hand up and down her back, gently, attempting to alleviate her aching pain. It was impossible for him not to notice the tension that still resided in her body.

"Hey, what is it?" he asked, peering down at her face.

"Nothing," she mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

"Tell me."

She sighed, before relenting. "I'm just not happy that my spazzing out during the open house is public knowledge."

"You were not spazzing out."

"Toby."

"Spence, it's not like it was on the eleven o' clock news. It was probably just told to the tenets."

"Yeah, right," she snorted. "This is Rosewood. People have nothing else to do but gossip about things like me."

"Things like you?"

"Tragedies. Novelty. Disasters. Psychos."

"Spencer."

"Come on, Toby. You've been the town pariah. You've been an outcast. You've been one of Rosewood's finest. You know this town, inside and out. Tell me that everyone who saw me at that open house isn't telling anyone who'll listen what happened."

The cop sighed but had no way to deny it, had no way of protecting her from the residents of the town and their rude, invasive, insensitive ways.

When he couldn't respond, couldn't find a way to amend the broken truth, he chose to comfort her physically instead, trailing his hand up into her hair again.

"Mmm!" she complained, but now not in pleasure, but utter pain. "That fucking hurts," she whimpered.

"Sorry," he whispered contritely, his lips replacing his hand. "I'll go get you some Asprin. See if that helps."

He kissed her head once more time before climbing off the bed, leaving her lying against the stiff mattress, too exhausted and sore to bother sitting up again.

If she thought the dizziness was exasperating, the constant and complete pain she was in now was a whole new kind of irritant. Instead of having to struggle to get through the tasks she was determined to prevail through, she had no motive to do anything but lie with her boyfriend in bed.

Which was all she planned on doing, when her phone out of the blue started chirping. "Hello?" she murmured into the speaker, her voice weary, already recognizing the number.

"Hey, Spence!" Hanna's voice rang brightly from the other side. "What're you doing?"

"Nothing, just… lying around," she answered truthfully as Toby returned with her pain pill and a glass of water she didn't need.

She dry swallowed the pill with no effort, smirking up at the cop. He rolled his eyes, mouthing, "impressive," at her smug expression.

Hanna scoffed noisily. "Spencer Hastings is vegging out?"

"Spencer Hastings feels like she got hit by a car. It changes a person's motivation."

"Okay, that actually happened to me, and I literally felt no different."

The brunette chuckled. "You claimed you needed to be waited on hand and foot," she reminded.

"Yeah and that's not much different than usual," the bubbly girl laughed. "Listen, I didn't call you to compare how pathetic our collected pain is."

"Collective," Spencer automatically corrected, gazing down at a particularly dark bruise, barely listening now.

"I just wanted to know if you want to go out to breakfast?"

"Sure," she automatically answered, gazing up at Toby who had moved towards his own phone and was pondering through his own messages. "Is Toby invited?"

"Duh." She could practically see her friend rolling her eyes. "I meant breakfast with everyone. Me and Aria and Em and Caleb and Ali and Jason-"

"I like how you snuck in Caleb's name, like I wouldn't notice," Spencer called out.

She heard Hanna take in a deep breath, her demeanor shifting into a much more sober one. "Listen, Spence, I want to go out for _you_. So if you have a problem with him being there or you feel like it's too awkward or strange or bizarre or whatever, I'll make him stay home-"

"Han, it's fine. I was just giving you a hard time," the brunette promised, chuckling. "Bring Caleb, bring whoever, I don't care. Did you ever break up with Jordan, by the way?"

"No, Spencer, I just got back together with Caleb while still planning my wedding to another guy," Hanna snorted. "No crap, I dumped him."

"How'd that go?"

"Surprisingly uneventful. I did it over text."

"Hanna!"

"I know! I'm awful, okay? But I was scared and plus, this way I get to keep the ring-"

"Hanna!"

" _Spencer_! It's a diamond!"

She cackled once, peering over at Toby who was giving her a peculiar look. She shook her head once, knowing he really couldn't care less about Hanna's drama.

"So you're definitely up for breakfast?" the blonde confirmed.

"Yes," she assured. "Just give me at least an hour. I need the Asprin to kick in before I'm going out to eat."

"Sure," her friend agreed, chewing now into the speaker.

"Are you already eating?"

"I'm starving, you twig!"

"Sorry. Uh wait, can we _not_ go to The Radley?" The mental hospital, turned hotel was probably the very last place the brunette wanted to be.

"Oh please, my mom runs that place. Like I need to eat there every day. What about that place in town that you used to like?"

"Han, you hate that place."

"Yeah but you don't-"

"Is something wrong?" Spencer suddenly cut off. "Do you know something I don't?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You hate Fiona's and you hate waiting. You always complain that you want to go when you want to go. And you-"

The blonde cut her off, already knowing what she was going to say. "This isn't about what I want. It's about you. I just wanted to see you and make sure you're okay."

But they'd been close for far too long for Spencer to let it go, just like that. "Hanna, what's going on?"

Her friend let out a loud, dramatic sigh. "Fine. I heard about the open house." At her words Spencer's stomach dropped, her gaze instantly meeting Toby's across the tiny room.

His eyes were instantly on alert. "What's wrong," he pressed, making it over to her in three strides. She shook her head, turning away from him, adverting her stare. "Spence."

"Spencer," Hanna called her attention back. "We all just wanted to see you. Okay, please. We worry about you."

The brunette shut her eyes, hating the way word traveled around town so fast, hating the way humiliation spread across her entire body over something she had no control over, hating the way she was _always_ right.

But she couldn't blame the girls for being concerned and, if she were being absolutely truthful with herself, she appreciated the fact that there were people in her life that wanted to check on her, wanted to know if she were alright.

As if he knew exactly what she was thinking-and sometimes she thought he did-Toby placed his hand gently on her back, further reminding her how different things could be. There were times in that boy's life, so dark, so bleak, so completely hopeless and desolate, and he had no one in his corner. He had no one there to make sure he was alright, to hug him and to worry about him.

He had no one but himself to pull him through heartbreaks and abuse that most mid-aged adults couldn't even imagine.

So how could she take for granted the people who cared about her?

"I'll see you guys in an hour."

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Toby asked for the third time as he pulled on a blue t-shirt.

Spencer sighed, gazing at him from the corner of her eye. "I told you, babe, that Advil really did work wonders. I mean, I still kind of feel like I got my ass handed to me, but it's not at the forefront of my brain anymore."

"I'm glad." He shot her a small smile. "But that's not why I was asking."

"Is this about Caleb? Because I swear I really don't give a crap if he's there or not. I have way too much going on in my brain to-"

"No, Spence, I'm not talking about Caleb," he disputed. "I mean, are you sure about going out to eat?"

She shot him a perplexed look, reaching for her brush. "Why would you ask me that?" she questioned, sitting on the edge of the bed. "We went out to dinner two days ago and I was fine? Not only that, but you didn't even question if I would be? Why is th-"

"I made sure that we went to a relatively empty place," the cop admitted, solemnly. "I made sure there was next to no chance if anything triggering you."

She stared at him, taken aback. "You did what?"

"Spence-"

"Why wouldn't you tell me that?" she pressed and his gut twisted into knots at the betrayal in her chocolate brown eyes.

He stared at her, at loss for words. "I just…"

"What?"

He sighed, adverting his eyes, almost like having to admit this to her physically pained him. He never wanted her to believe he thought there was anything she couldn't handle. He always believed in her, under any circumstances under the sun.

But at the same time, they both needed to be realistic about her condition, whatever that may be. Pretending everything was rainbows and sunshine wouldn't get her better, wouldn't heal her or give her any semblance of a normal life and, if they both weren't careful, the doctors-or even her parents-might force her back into the hospital. And this time, it would without a doubt be to the psych ward.

"Dr. Barnes said we need to be careful about going into overly populated places," he reminded, his eyes begging for her to understand. Understand him, understand his anxieties, understand that he loved her and all he wanted was for her to be okay.

She didn't show him that exactly, though he really didn't expect her to. She didn't lash out at him either though, like he feared. Instead she forced her tough exterior, her Hastings face, and stated evenly, "I'm fine, okay? I can handle a crowd."

"Baby," he knelt down in front of her spot at the edge of the bed. "What happened yesterday-"

"Was a fluke," she insisted, pushing his hand away as it tried to cup her cheek. "I swear, Toby, I'm _fine_."

He looked at her, a heartbroken gleam in his eyes, before nodding. "Okay," he whispered, picking up one of her hands. "It's your choice," he promised. "It's always going to be your choice."

And even in her irritation, even in her aggravated state, her heart tugged the slightest bit at his words.

He really did everything out of love for her.

She sighed before moving to wrap her arms around his neck, her face finding residence in the space where his neck met his shoulder. Breathing in his scent, the smell to her that her brain registered as _home_ , she murmured, "I promise you, this will be okay."

He shut his eyes, reciprocating the hug and prayed to God that she was right.

* * *

She knew his bad feeling about going out to breakfast didn't evaporate with her reassurances. It didn't relieve him at all to hear her promises, as they both knew she couldn't keep them. When it came down to it, the trauma she'd suffered, the demons in her head, the fractures in her heart, were stronger than her.

But she was going to fight like hell, until she managed to beat them.

That was what she told herself.

That was the strength just being with him gave her.

By the time they arrived at Fiona's, their friends were just barely getting out of their car.

"Spence," Aria called, flying towards the brunette as soon as she had shut the passenger's side door.

"Hey," she returned the embrace, grimacing slightly as her sore body rejected the shorter girl's tight squeeze.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry," Aria's expressive green eyes instantly widened, the notion of unintentionally hurting her friend dawning on her.

But Spencer was no longer paying attention to Aria or any of the others gathered by the door.

Instead her focus was on the people inside the restaurant. The people staring out at her, unashamed, through the grimy, unwashed glass.

The stares didn't bother her. Not in a way that left her feeling self-conscious or ashamed, at least. No, they pissed her off. They burned a fire inside her, a rage that was so familiar to her, it was like an actual facet of her personality.

Because she knew them. She knew every last one of them.

They were all friends-or at the very least, acquaintances-of her parents. Every single person staring at her, like she was a spider, like she was the walking embodiment of a contagious illness, had known her since she was practically in diapers. They watched her grow up. They attended every last one of her parents' stupid parties for her and Melissa. They pretended to give a damn about her accomplishments.

And now they looked at her, like she was a disgrace to society.

She was simmering, her blood boiling underneath her skin, when she felt a much larger palm-far too large to be Aria's-slip into her's and propel her forward.

Toby met her eyes and she could tell he knew exactly what she was thinking. Better yet, his thoughts were aligned with her's.

He had never taken well to seeing her experience any sort of maltreatment, no matter how unavoidable or expected it was in her circumstances.

As she walked through the entrance, right on her boyfriend's heels, she almost had to bite back a sardonic laugh. Not one pair of eyes had adverted from her figure. Not one person was ashamed to be caught staring at her.

And she realized this was the first time she had gone out into such a public place since the massacre.

This was the first time she was truly in the presence of the residents of Rosewood.

This was exactly what Toby had feared.

No one hid the fact that they were whispering about her. Their words were quiet but their mouths moved noticeably, as if she was on the oblivious side of a two way mirror.

She felt the eyes, not just of the noisy country clubbers, but of every of her friends now on her face. They were all more than aware of the attention she was receiving.

It was Toby who spoke first, drawing her closer to him before whispering in her ear, "Babe, we can go somewhere else."

"No," she instantly rejected. "We're not going anywhere."

All seven pairs of eyes shot her quizzical looks.

"Spence."

"Are you sure?"

"If they're staring at her face, I'm going to cut them in half."

"Do you want me to go over there and tell them to fuc-"

"Han!"

"You don't need to be brave, Spence."

Waving her hand to cut them all off, the twenty-three-year old simply shook her head, hearing Toby's words in her head yesterday, hearing the truth behind them now.

It didn't matter what a bunch of strangers thought of her. These were people who would move onto the next tragedy–and Rosewood never failed to have another-whenever it came, forgetting all about her in the drop of a hat.

She had problems too big to worry about what they thought of her.

* * *

"So," Hanna started, staring down at the menu in her hand, scanning it undoubtedly for the unhealthiest thing she could find. "Spence."

"Yes?" The brunette barely looked up from the menu sitting in front of her and Toby.

"Do you ever have to go back to work? You know? In D.C?"

Her question elicited a strange reaction from Spencer. One she didn't predict.

"No," she snorted.

"No?" Emily's head snapped up. "Really? You quit?"

Toby flexed his jaw, already knowing the story and disgruntled with the outcome. "I got fired," Spencer informed, her tone completely blasé.

"You got fired?" Aria's mouth fell open. Down at the end of the table, Jason dropped his menu in uncharacteristic surprise.

"How could they fire you?" Hanna pressed, unable to process the idea that their brilliant and ambitious best friend, that had been called _D.C's brightest young lobbyist_ , had been terminated.

All the response the brunette offered was a shrug. "They called and talked to my dad while I was still in the hospital. I don't know, evidently they called more than once but I was too focused on other things, and eventually they just told my dad that," she eyed Toby, licking her lips for sardonic emphasis, "they felt these extenuating circumstances would keep me away from D.C for an extended period of time and thought it was better to just make a clean break."

All the girls glanced at each other, wanting to say something, do something, have some assortment of words that could make it better.

It was Jason though that spoke first. "That's complete-"

"Bullshit?" Toby finished for him, his expression irate. Same as it was every time this topic came up.

"Spencer, you can sue them," Caleb pointed out from the opposite end of the table.

"I know," she nodded, because she knew it was true. She probably could sue them for wrongful termination. "But I'm not going to bother. It's not that big of a deal."

She remembered when she'd been told-she could barley retain what day it was or what exact events had occurred before or after. She remembered her mom's uptight expression and how her dad had told her he'd figure out a way to fight this and how Toby had been caught completely off-guard, clearly not privy to this information prior to her and how Melissa had raised an eyebrow, waiting for Spencer's reaction almost challengingly.

She remembered being more relieved than anything else as this meant she didn't have to worry about keeping her bosses updated on her condition. She didn't have to explain when she was-or was not-coming back to D.C. She didn't have to worry about being tied to another city, especially when the only person who could ground her right now was anchored to Rosewood.

She was especially grateful that she didn't have to explain to her bosses that her memory was coming back in random snippets, that left her hysterical and incoherent and terrified. She didn't have to let anyone else in on her potential mental deterioration.

Once upon a time, it would have disturbed her parents to witness her lack of reaction to losing something she'd worked so hard for. But when they took in her detached demeanor, when they watched her cork an eyebrow and struggle with relief and disappointment and apprehension, before deciding it was for the best and she had no interest in forcing her job back, they'd both given her uncharacteristic support, telling her she didn't need that job, that she was better off, that she was right to let it go.

It had floored Toby almost as much as her. When they were alone again, soon after, he had commented that maybe, after all these years, her parents had finally gained perspective on what truly mattered in life.

She'd liked his words, but as much as she wished they were true, she couldn't help the small, nagging part of her that suggested that they may have just been happy to minimize her drama so _they_ didn't have to deal with it.

Her bubbly blonde friend's voice tugged her out of her thoughts. "So," she prefaced loudly, eying Spencer anxiously.

The brunette just stared at her, unable to decipher what she was asking. "So?"

"Have you, like…remembered anything?" Hanna finally asked.

"Hanna," Emily cautioned, as both Aria and Toby shot her menacing looks.

"What, Em? I'm her best friend- _you_ ' _re_ her best friend. Why can't we ask?" Hanna defended, her gaze shifting back to Spencer, who still hadn't answered.

"Spence, if you don't want to," Aria started, instantly on guard, scared of setting the brunette off, like a gun with the trigger already halfway pulled.

"Yeah," Emily agreed, her tone placid. "If you're not comfortable, you don't have to tell us anything."

Both Aria and Emily were attempting to put her first. Both of them wanted to make sure they didn't trigger her. They were going out of their way to protect her.

And she hated it. She should have been grateful and she felt a large pang of guilt seep its way into the pit of her stomach, because she should have unbelievably happy to have friends who loved her. Who wanted to shield her and wanted to defer any sort of panic they could. Who would ignore the large, ever present elephant in the room, for her.

But what she truly appreciated was Hanna's bluntness. Hanna's blithe, unashamed attitude. Her inability to walk on eggshells around the brunette.

Nothing irritated her more than being treated like a piece of glass.

Especially by people who had expected her to be _their_ backbone for almost the entire last decade.

Her irritation flared up and, before she could find it in herself to care how inconsiderate it was to take it out on people who were trying to make her life easier, she snapped, "Why wouldn't I be comfortable talking about it? It's just a bunch of memories resurfacing of being kidnapped, beaten and watching strangers be either petrified or murdered. Who wouldn't want to have story time with that?"

At her words, every pair of eyes stayed glued on her face, stuck in a trance, their vocal cords suddenly severed.

Except for one person, who had seen enough darkness in her life, especially recently, and had less sensitivity and less of a filter than anyone else seated at the table. "Was everyone a stranger?"

Spencer snapped her head towards Alison, the words a shock to her psyche. "What?" She stared at her friend, completely mystified now.

"Was everyone with you in that building a stranger?"

"Spencer," Toby's hand rubbed her shoulder, quivering slightly. She could feel the agitation in his body language. This prospect wasn't news to him, but he had hoped she wouldn't put it together. He'd hoped she would remain oblivious to this fact for as long as she possibly could.

She knew some people in the massacre.

Suddenly, as if her brain was rapidly clicking buttons, swiftly adding a missing piece to the puzzle in her head, she heard with absolute clarity, Tanner and Lorenzo's voices the day they'd questioned her.

_"How would you describe your relationship to Sydney Driscoll?"_

_"What about Noel Kahn?"_

_"Are you friends with Lucas Gottesman?"_

_"How well did you know Kenna Greenbrook?"_

_"What about Maddie Coffman?"_

_"Do you remember Krystal Loot?"_

_"What about Eddie Lamb?"_

"Toby," she gasped, her voice suddenly breathless, akin to coming up for air after being suffocated underwater. "That day. That day in the hospital when Tanner and Lorenzo came to the hospital. They were telling me something. They were telling me the names of all the people who died," she implored, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"Spence," Emily whispered, reaching out to touch the shaky girl's arm.

But the brunette's eyes never left the cop. "Why didn't I put this together that day? Why didn't I realize…"

The twenty-four-year old just stared at her, heartbreak in his gaze and for a split second, she wondered if he knew something she didn't. If he thought protecting her from every last facet of information she could get her hands on was best. If he, despite knowing she needed to remember, wanted to keep her from reliving that night.

She wondered if he thought she was better off not knowing.

"Spencer," he finally said, breaking her out of her reverie, his voice was no louder than a breath. "It's not like that."

"Toby, I know the names of the people who were killed," she exclaimed, her gaze flickering over their entire table of friends, relieved for reasons she didn't comprehend that most of them seemed as taken aback by the revelation as she was. "I was so caught up in the fact that they were accusing me playing some part in it, that I never stopped to realize that they were telling me the names."

The cop bit his lip before answering, his voice low and only audible to her. "Do you remember after you woke up when I first told you what had happened? Or what was known?" Her eyes narrowed at his words, waiting to see where he was going. "Not everyone who was in that building with you was murdered."

_"Eight bodies were found."_

_"The other nine are still missing."_

Her breathing hitched as her eyes remained locked with his. "You mean the nine people. The nine people whose bodies were never found," she corrected, reminding him of his own words.

"Yes."

"Spence," Ali whispered, seeing where her coarseness inadvertently led the conversation. "I'm sorry-"

"It's not your fault," the brunette instantly murmured, not even bothering to turn and look at her.

The cop didn't seem to agree but he wisely chose to pick his battles. "Sweetheart," he whispered, seeing how her eyes were filling up, more so out of stress and consternation at the sudden revelation than actual sorrow.

His hand rose up to cup her cheek when she squeezed her eyes shut and mumbled, "I'm sorry," to the rest of their friends. "I'm really sorry, you guys, I just-I can't do this."

She backed away from the table, not waiting for her boyfriend or friends to follow her outside.

The second the fresh air hit her face, she gulped it up, desperate for breath.

She noticed that it felt like she hadn't exhaled in days.

Her lungs were shaky as she tried to take oxygen in, tried to calm herself down, tried to get a grasp on herself.

She knew all along though, it was futile.

She heard Toby and their friends behind her, heard them slow their pace, halt in their tracts in order not to startle her. She wanted to turn around and tell them everything way alright, tell them they had no reason to worry, that she was fine now and they could head back inside, have breakfast and pretend she wasn't an anchor, dragging them all down.

But before she could find the words, a loud distress signal sounded from down the street.

A loud, blaring siren.

A sound that was all too familiar to her.

_"Get him away!" screamed the girl next to her. "Get him the fuck away!"_

_Spencer felt herself being tugged in tighter, being pulled right up against a much larger, broader body. A body that could only belong to a man. A man in the Navy._

_The man was trying to protect her. He was shielding her. He was trying to save her life._

_Her arms were entangled so tight with the screaming girl next to her, their hands fused together so firmly, that when she was pulled into the man's arms, she brought the girl with her._

_Before them laid the body of the now deceased boy. A boy they had all watched be shot to death. A boy that she didn't recognize, didn't know by name, didn't even know if she'd ever spoken a word to, but now she'd never be able to forget._

_A loud siren blared from above, the speakers blasting out of the ceiling._

_But the alarm bell wasn't what scared her, wasn't what forced her heart to skip a beat in the most horrendous way possible, wasn't what made her back grow damp with swamp, wasn't what made her involuntarily gag._

_It was what happened when it stopped._

_She couldn't help the sob that ejected itself out of her mouth, the cry of utter confusion and devastation and anguish and she knew, right then and there, that she would never see the light of day again. That everything she'd worked for in her life was completely redundant as she sat on the ground, huddled in a three person ball, wishing she'd spent more time with the people she loved. Wishing that she had been a better person, a better friend, a better daughter even._

_Wishing she'd been better to Toby. Wishing she'd not let her pride get in the way. Wishing she would have put everything on the line, regardless of who he was with, how he felt and the infinite possibility of rejection._

_The one thing she was grateful for, the one moment above all else that she was truly proud of, was her confession of love the night before. She'd told everyone exactly how she'd felt about him._

_He knew._

_Even if she didn't live to see the next hour, he'd always know how she'd felt. That there was no one and nothing that could ever take his place in her heart. That no matter where she went, and who she was with, she would always somehow end up in front of him, with her heart involuntarily in her hands, begging him to love her the way only he knew how._

_"Shhh," the man hushed, hugging her closer to him, smothering her face into his white polo shirt. The girl on her other side, separated their linked hands and brought the pads of her fingertips up against Spencer's face, wiping away the tears and blood that coursed down her cheeks._

_Before anyone could utter a syllable, the siren stopped, silence filled the air, and then a gunshot rang so loud and so clear that it felt like the only thing that existed in the world._

_Her chest heaved as the girl next to her dug her nails deep into the underside of the brunette's arm. Deep enough that she could practically feel her skin being torn open._

_"Please, stop," Spencer whispered, too quiet for anyone outside their huddle to hear, too quiet for anyone else to notice. Her words weren't to the girl slicing her skin open though. They were to their tormentor. "Please, please, please, stop."_

_She felt the girl's thin arms wrap around her neck and squeeze her tighter, as if they were best friends, as if they had known each other forever._

_But it was the man protecting them at the forefront of her mind. The man who was willing to lose his own life, in order to save theirs._

_And, unlike the boy on the floor, splattered in blood, cold as an ice cube and still as a thousand year old portrait, she knew this man._

_She knew this man._


	14. Chapter Fourteen

"Spencer," Toby begged, his voice full of quiet desperation as he attempted to still her violently thrashing limbs.

"Spence," Aria pled as well, nearly in tears. The shorter girl had knelt to the ground, trying to get a grasp on the brunette, trying to help, trying to cover her friend from the evasive eyes gathering all around.

Above hovered Hanna, blurting out her name as well, but staying further away, somehow frightened of coming closer, suddenly afraid of the girl who'd been her best friend for longer than she could remember.

Emily too, stood back with the rest of their friends, terrified of the brunette, like she had contracted rabies in mere seconds.

She was mouthing something. There was a word or a title or a name on her lips, that was begging to be spoken, begging to be uttered, begging to be screamed.

She couldn't say it. Her brain was, for the first time since this nightmare started, cooperating, but now it was her mouth betraying her.

_Eddie Lamb._

She was retching as the name coursed through her mind, over and over again, taking over her entire thought process. The more she tried to erase the image of the man, who had always been kind to her, always treated her with respect and decency and care, covering her body at the possible expense of his own, the louder her heaves became. She was aware she was drawing even more attention to herself, indisputably becoming tomorrow's scandal as well, as she fruitlessly laid against the sidewalk, trying with everything inside her to silence the noise screaming inside her head.

"Spencer," Toby whispered again and his hand was trailing into her hair now, massaging her scalp, powerlessly waiting for her to come to.

She dry-heaved against the ground until her stomach stopped lurching, until her throat stopped burning, until she could breathe again.

She wasn't thrashing any longer but every vertebrae in her body was quivering like an earthquake, as she threw herself into Toby's arms, squeezing her body so tight to him she nearly cut off his air supply.

"Spence," he breathed into her hair, the nickname spilling out without his brain registering it. She knew when he witnessed her anguish, saw her hurting in any way, his mind was instantly disconnected from his body. As if when she wasn't alright, he wasn't either. He couldn't even think straight when she was in pain.

He had pulled her entirely into his lap, ignoring the growing crowd around them, people dispersing from the restaurant left and right to see the show playing out right in front of their very eyes.

"Shhh," the cop hushed, watching as their friends all gathered closer, packing in tighter around the couple, protecting them as much as they could from the onlookers' view.

"Toby," she gasped, the idea of the entire crowd hearing her sentiment not even a factor in her disconnected, fragmented mind. "I love you so much."

He was surprised by her words, taken aback at why an ambulance flying down the street brought to her mind the love she held for him. But nonetheless, he returned the gesture, whispering against her forehead, "I love you too. More than anything."

She squeezed her arms even tighter around his neck, in as unyielding of a chokehold as she was capable of.

"What's wrong with her?"

"That's the chick from the news, dude."

" _That's_ her?"

"Yeah. Can't you tell?"

"She was hotter last night."

The words uttered by the high school boys weren't even a dull hum in either Spencer or Toby's mind. Neither of them were fazed by the two adolescents and their juvenile attitude towards the circumstances that were detonating their entire lives.

Jason, on the other hand, had some choice words for the two kids.

"I'm sorry, did you guys have something to say?" The blonde pressed, standing up taller, his muscular body easily towering over both of them.

The light demeanor they'd both been exhibiting only moments before instantly dissipated. Spencer's brother easily put the fear of God into both of them, as Jason's arms were nearly three times the size of theirs and the infuriation in his eyes screamed danger to anyone in his path.

"Sorry," one had the good sense to mumble as they both turned backwards into the crowd and hurried away.

"Does anybody else want to make a comment?" Jason asked the rest of the spectators, daring them to respond.

"Make him stop," Spencer choked out, turning her face into her boyfriend's neck.

"Jason," Toby beckoned softly, a cue not to cause a bigger scene than they already had.

The brother hesitated before reluctantly turning his back on the swarm of people, rejoining the group surrounding the still quaking girl.

"Baby," Toby whispered into her hair, rubbing her back, pleading for her to speak to him, tell him what she needed, tell him how to fix whatever had just snapped inside her head.

He felt a shove against his chest, the strongest gesture she'd made yet. It took him nearly half a minute to realize she wasn't shoving him away. She was asking him to take _her_ away.

The cop shot one more glance at their friends as he helped her stand before grasping her hand in his and leading her towards his truck, entirely unsettled by the way he could feel her whole body trembling.

Once her side was unlocked, she flung herself in and leaned back against the seat, attempting to breathe, away from the diminishing crowd.

She shut her eyes, willing away the eyes of her friends, of the country clubbers and the high schoolers, of any random stranger still lurking outside Fiona's, still under the impression they were entitled to her private business, still believing her meltdowns were reality show excerpts and they were free to shamelessly gawk.

Toby hurried around to get into the driver's seat, not stopping to even say goodbye, not even taking a moment to ask her what the hell just happened.

He knew what she truly needed was to be alone. Alone with him, without any distractions or chaos or triggers.

He knew that even before she did.

And she knew then, with complete and utter dread, that he had been right from the start.

He hadn't wanted to come out to breakfast. He'd thought it could and would end badly.

And she had been so confident. She had been so adamant that nothing would go wrong.

She knew all along that she was just trying to prove it to herself. She was trying to prove it to _him_.

She wanted to prove him wrong, show him and everyone else that she could overcome her demons, all on her own. That she didn't need to be protected.

She was _embarrassed_. She was embarrassed by her outbursts, embarrassed by the flashbacks and the scenes they caused, embarrassed by her own helplessness, no matter how much she fought for control. She was embarrassed that she was now a public commodity.

She knew he came from nowhere but a place of love. He wasn't doubting her strength or trying to prove to her she couldn't succeed or overcome what was done to her.

If anything, he was the one person who did believe in her, above and in spite of everyone else.

But that didn't mean she didn't want to show him that he had no reason to worry. With all the stress this had put on _his_ life, she just wanted to show him a real improvement. A real stride in the right direction.

She should have known something as simple and ordinary as an ambulance siren would gut her out of any sense of normality.

She should have just stopped being so stubborn, stopped trying to overdo it, stopped acting like Toby was a Hastings and she had to prove her worth to him in order to keep his love.

But it's so hard, when that's all you know. When the very foundation of your life was built on conditional love, when it's so far engrained in you that you always have to prove your value, that you have to always strive to be better and stronger and powerful and any sort of weakness, any sort of vulnerability, any sort of dependence, is a license to leave you stranded and alone. Even just emotionally.

She knew that Toby had never meant to do that, that he would chew off his left arm before he'd ever intend to hurt her, that he was the most loving and forgiving and wonderful person she'd ever known.

But the reality is, being abandoned was not something she associated exclusively with her family.

The feeling of being abandoned by Toby was in no way unfamiliar.

And she hated herself for even thinking it, for even thinking of him that way, thinking of the million times he'd run away, thinking of their breakup as one final abandonment to kick all the others to shame.

But she did. And she didn't know why.

She was so out of it, so lost inside her own head, her own self-deprecating narrative, that it wasn't even until they pulled up at their spot overseeing Rosewood that she realized he hadn't taken her back to the hotel.

She turned to look at him in confusion, unsure what was going on as he turned the car off.

"Toby, what are we doing here?" She asked, her voice even rougher than usual. She was still shivering, still had yet to catch her breath, her face still damp and splotchy.

"What we've been doing, Spence," he paused, looking out the windshield, out at the landscape of the town, digging for the right words. "It hasn't been helping you. Not even a little."

When all he got in return was silence, when she narrowed her mocha irises into slits and just stared ahead at him, unsure where he was taking this, anxiety bubbling in her stomach, he reached out and gently took her hand. "Spencer, what have you been seeing? When you lose touch with your surroundings and you're suddenly somewhere else, what are you seeing? Where are you?" He implored softly, his baby blues unwaveringly holding her gaze. "Where do you go?"

She shut her eyes, allowing the torment she felt in the deepest part of her soul overtake her features. She brought the hand that wasn't entwined with his up to her face and scrubbed at her tear-stricken cheeks. Her stomach began to quiver at the pressure and the complete and utter panic she felt at the idea of vocalizing even a moment of the time she remembered back inside that building.

If she vocalized it, she was making it even more real than it already seemed.

She felt the same unparalleled terror at the thought of sharing it as she did when she relived it.

Seeing her reaction, the twenty-four-year old took the hand that was linked to his and tugged her closer.

"Come here," he murmured, almost the same as he had a million nights ago, in a different truck and with a different reason for needing to console her. But his tone was nearly identical and his words were so similar and it was impossible for her not to crawl into his arms and allow relief to seep into her entire being at the feeling of him holding her.

Pushing her hair back from her face, he softly prompted, "Please, babe, just tell me what's going on. Tell me what's hurting you. Talk to me."

She shut her eyes, breathing in the fabric of his shirt, finding small comfort in the fact that now it smelled like a mixture of both her and him.

She let out a shallow breath before hesitatingly murmuring, "Where do you want me to start?"

"Start anywhere," he instantly implored. "Tell me anything."

"I don't even know what order they go in. . . They come back so randomly."

"That's okay," he promised, as he rubbed her shoulder. "We can try to sort them out together."

"The first one came when Tanner and Lorenzo were questioning me. I don't even remember how it was brought on or what they said but, suddenly it was like someone was holding me down. Like someone was. . ."

"Hurting you?" Toby impelled quietly when she trailed off.

"No, actually," she corrected, her brows drawing together, linking the pieces herself for the very first time. Seeing where the memories overlapped. Filling in the blanks with the man she could now identify. "They were protecting me."

"Protecting you?" He repeated, perplexed. "What-"

"It wasn't -A. It wasn't one of -A's minions. It was someone trapped in there too. They wanted to help me. They wanted to save my life." The cop didn't have anything to say to that, taken aback by her words. It was obvious that though he didn't know what to expect, but this was not it. "They told me to run. They said run and do not look back."

"Did you?" Toby asked after a moment, watching her eyes glaze over as she pondered the memory.

"I don't know. I think so. I think that's why. . ."

"Why, what?"

She could feel his arms locking tighter around her, squeezing her to him just as much for his benefit as for her comfort. Hearing the details of the horrendous night in question, no matter how necessary it was, still left him desperate for proof that she was there with him now, that he was holding her in his arms, safe and alive and only sporting cuts and bruises.

She shook her head, realizing she was getting ahead of herself. Sniffling quietly, she moved onto the next flashback she'd experienced. "When my mom and I got into a fight that day in my hospital room, she said something about me putting her through hell. And that brought up something because. . . the same person who told me to run, told this guy that if he didn't shut his mouth, or if -A or whoever had captured us heard him, we'd get caught and would all be going through hell."

"Caught?" He picked.

"Yeah, I guess we were trying to escape. I think. But clearly that didn't happen and there was another girl with us too and I think we were hiding behind something so -A wouldn't see us but the boy was too loud and the next thing I know . . . he was dead."

Toby's hand stilled against her shoulder, his breathing hitching in his throat. "Dead?" His voice was nothing but a gasp, his crystal blues as wide as she'd ever seen them.

"-A shot them to death. Right in front of me." She swallowed hard, unable to meet the cop's eyes.

She didn't realize that she was crying again until she felt his fingers on her face, wiping away the liquid salt from her cheeks.

"Baby," he whispered, his voice so forlorn, it nearly brought on a new wave of hysteria. "Oh my god."

She felt him turn her around in his arms, allowing her to bury her face in his chest, her legs flinging themselves over his lap. "It was so horrible," she sobbed against his shirt, permitting herself to finally convey just how traumatic it truly was to watch the light literally leave someone's eyes, to watch them scream and holler in pain and agony while you're powerless to stop it, powerless to help, powerless to save them or yourself.

It was really no wonder she was such a mess.

Attempting to clear her throat, attempting to gain composure over herself, though for the most part it was a lost cause, the twenty-three-year old segued into the next recollection that had surfaced. "And then I remembered actually being kidnapped."

This caught Toby wholly off-guard. "What?"

"I remember a man and woman kidnapping me out of my bed. Neither of them were -A. They talked about answering to someone else. A he," she added.

"A male?"

"Yeah." She nodded unsteadily as he continued to wipe her still flowing tears off her cheek with his thumb.

"-A is a he?"

"Yes," she confirmed, no uncertainty in her voice. "-A is for sure a he. He's the one who beat the living shit out of me. Or did most of the beating, I guess. The guy who kidnapped me punched me in the eye twice to knock me out."

This time she felt Toby's jaw clench and pretended not to notice, knowing it was an involuntary protective reaction he had every time she was harmed. He didn't want to capitalize on it.

"Were you awake when they broke in?" He inquired, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"No. They said they had drugged me somehow. I guess not enough and that's why he had to punch me."

"I'm going to make sure he gets his ass handed to him in jail-"

"Toby," she cut off in a complete monotone. His reaction almost pleased her but somehow, no matter the circumstances, it was always disheartening to see her sweet boyfriend have any sort of malicious thought.

When he didn't speak again, his hand slipping up her shirt to rub her bare back, she continued. "After that-or at least, until today-I think I just remembered getting the crap kicked out of me."

She felt him sigh deeply. "Is that what came back at the open house?"

"Yeah. I saw two guys hitting each other out the window and. . . suddenly I was back in that building and I was running away and. . . someone was hitting me and kicking me and throwing me around. I'm just thankful it ended when he pulled out a knife. Even my subconscious has more compassion than to make me relive that."

Toby squeezed his eyes shut, burying his lips in her hair. "I'm sorry, Spence. God, I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"Please don't say that."

"I love you," he proclaimed and there were tears on his face now too. "I love you more than anything. I should have been there. I should have protected you. I ran away from you that night at Ali's and I'm never going to forgive myself for that. Ever."

She squeezed her arms tighter around him, realizing she had been so preoccupied by her own fear of acknowledging what happened to her, what she was remembering, that she never really considered reasons to _not_ tell Toby.

He'd never taken well to seeing her hurt. He'd never been able to handle failing to protect her, when everything inside of him desperately screamed to.

It was too late to take back anything she'd told him now and selfishly, she wasn't sure if she even wanted to. She felt lighter, having shared this burden.

She felt more sane than she had since waking up in the hospital.

His words drew her back to reality once again. His voice was quiet and subdued but there was a dark edge to it now. "When we find this son of a bitch, I'm going to kill him. I swear to God-"

"Toby," she said again but this time it was a chuckle, even through her tears. The protective nature to his tone elicited a feeling of safety, his words striking her as funny.

Her sweet Toby wouldn't hurt a fly.

He shook his head before drawing her even closer, wanting to evaporate any fraction of space between them. "What happened next?"

"You mean what did I remember back at Fiona's?"

"Yeah. Unless it's still too raw, then you don't have to talk about it now," he instantly amended, searching her face to make sure she was still alright.

As alright as she could be, that is.

The brunette took a deep breath, running over the newest memory, retracing all the details that led her to realize the identity of the man who had risked his life to protect her.

A man they both knew.

A man they both had trusted.

It almost made her relieved to know that she hadn't been wrong in placing her faith in him. There were so many times in her life that she had believed the wrong person. It was a rare thing that she was validated in who she chose to rely on.

It almost made her feel relieved. If the circumstances weren't so dire.

"The siren is the same in an ambulance," she finally explained, "as the one -A played for us that night. Over and over again. Unrelenting. Just like the dollhouse," she murmured, connecting the dots herself.

It was strange how talking it out verbally helped her gain a better recognition of what was coming back. Helped her understand what had happened to her.

It helped lift a weight off her to say it aloud to someone who would listen. Someone who put her needs over their own, and ignored their own trepidation and horror at what this monster had orchestrated. Someone who loved her more than anything else in the world.

"It triggered a memory," she continued as the cop raked his fingers through her tangled hair, attempting to provide her with some sort of solace, even in the most impossible moment. "I was on the ground again and I was with that same man and girl. The girl was screaming on top of her lungs. I can barely remember her voice, it was just. . . feminine. And she was begging someone move the dead boy away from us. She was begging -A."

Toby stifled a sob into the back of his throat as new tears fell from his oceanic eyes, landing in Spencer's hair.

Of course, someone as gentle hearted as her boyfriend would identify with the helpless, desperate girl.

"I thought I was going to die in there," she admitted, her tears falling more rapidly now too. "I really believed I'd never live to see the light of day again."

"Baby," he whispered, his lips planting kisses in her hair again, this time repeatedly.

"I kept wishing I had been better. Better to everyone, but especially better to you." She sucked in another breath, filling up her lungs, exhausted with her constant rollercoaster of emotions. "I just kept wishing that I'd told you how I felt and laid everything on the table sooner. And then I realized that I had told _everyone_ exactly how I felt about you earlier than night." She felt him chuckle against her, remembering her words fondly. "And then. . . I must have been sobbing because the man shielding me tried to get me to quiet down. And then the hysterical girl started comforting me. . .and hugging me and clinging to me, like we were best friends. And then there were more gunshots," she whispered thickly. "I don't remember anything after that. That's all that's come back."

"Spencer," Toby breathed, his eyes still wet but his gaze held complete and total reverence. "That's so much. That's so much to have endured and kept to yourself."

"I know." She nodded, her throat still feeling clogged and full. "I know it is."

He used his fingertips once again to wipe away her never ending stream of tears. "I'm so proud of you. For even beginning to talk about this. You're so brave, you know that?"

The brunette squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm not brave, Tobes. I didn't even save myself. Someone else was protecting me and I'm pretty sure that I got the shit beat out of me after following what the guy was telling me and running. Which means I didn't even get away. -A caught me and. . ." she cut herself off, taking in a deep breath unsuccessfully.

His arms tightened around her once again, this time drawing her entirely into his lap and pressing kisses against the skin on her face, her temple, behind her ear, the side of her neck.

"You survived what is probably the worst thing imaginable. You are the bravest person I have ever known, Spencer Hastings," he insisted, his voice still hoarse.

She swallowed hard, still not convinced but depleted of the energy to dispute his words. "Toby?" She whispered, leaning her cheek against his shirt.

"Yeah?"

"I think I remember who the man protecting me was. Who was shielding me from -A and telling me to run."

If his eyes could have popped out of his sockets, they would have in that moment. It took her a hot second to realize she maybe should have mentioned this to start with.

"Who?" He prompted urgently. "Who was it?"

"This is going to sound crazy-"

"Spence, nothing and nobody would sound crazy. Not to me."

She took a moment, biting her lip before ejecting the name like a bomb off her lips.

"Eddie Lamb."

* * *

After she had left her boyfriend reeling with her admission, after she had finally acknowledged what her brain had allowed her to realize, finally giving them a concrete piece to the puzzle, albeit however small, they had sat there, at their spot for hours.

She had been content, her burden partway lifted, to lay curled up on Toby's lap. There was no safer place for her to lay her head than in the crook of his neck.

But as the hours ticked by, the cop had suggested heading back to the motel, citing her inevitable exhaustion. She had nodded, and using the back of her hand, wiped away her still pouring waterworks, noticing not for the first time how raw her face was after her crying jag.

Toby had kissed her cheek once again before pressing another one to her lips. The kisses weren't out of sexual desire but out of comfort, out of relief, out of love. His heart broke, seeing her tears continue to race remorselessly down her face, in spite of her every resistance.

But _she_ knew the tears weren't out of complete misery now. They weren't totally out of desolation. They were not longer completely attributed to the feelings of helplessness and anger that constantly accompanied any flashback.

A part of them may have been caused by each of those factors, but the brunette realized now that a huge part of her waterworks was actually a positive thing.

Telling Toby what she knew had happened, whatever she could remember of that night, was analogous to a cathartic release. It brought about a wave of fear and heartbreak but it also brought her liberation, to admit these atrocities out loud, so she didn't have to be the only one carrying the burden around anymore.

She didn't think he knew this, that Toby's brain would grasp this, as anytime he ever witnessed her pain, it nearly impaled him. Any version of a breakdown he witnessed stabbed him to the core. It was unlikely he'd see the good in the grief and devastation.

When they arrived back at the Edgewood Motor-Court, Spencer instantly stripped down to her underwear and climbed into the bed, far more shattered than she'd realized.

It was only seconds before the sandy brunette climbed in behind her, wrapping both arms around her waist and placing a kiss on her bare shoulder.

"I love you," he murmured, though they'd said it nearly five times today. "I love you so much, Spencer. And," he swallowed hard, his voice growing quieter, "I don't know what would have become of me had you not made it out of that building. Had I not gotten there in time."

"Toby-"

"I'm serious. You're everything to me. You've always thought I'm some kind of saint but if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't even know who I am."

She spun around in his arms, his words faintly waking her up. But before she could find a way in her exhausted brain to string together a suitable response, he continued. "That's the reason why Lorenzo and Yvonne and even my parents all looked at you like they knew you from the moment you first met them. Because I couldn't shut up about you. While people talked about themselves, all I could ever think of to say was about you. My entire thought process revolved around you. You were my life even when we weren't _in_ each other's lives."

Her chocolate colored eyes bore into his, in complete awe. There was no one on this planet who loved her more. And no one on this planet who deserved his love less.

Instead of kissing him like she wanted to or attempting to come up with a declaration of her own, to convey the exact irrevocable love she held for him, the unparalleled, breathtaking feelings that overpowered her every second of her life since the day she chose to knock on his door to tutor him, instead of doing any of that, she felt her eyes well up with liquid salt all over again.

"Spence," he gasped, stunned. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I'm not good enough for you," she admitted raucously. "I don't deserve you."

"Yes," he disagreed, his brow furrowing. "You do."

"No, I don't. How can you honestly love me that much, knowing damn well how fucked up I am?" She argued, her voice breaking his heart as much as her bloodshot, fatigued eyes and the tears still coursing down her battered face did.

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes growing sad, unable to even completely process her words, completely allow them to seep into his brain. The way she beat herself up for any ounce of vulnerability was still just as astounding to him as it had been half a decade prior. Nothing inside of him could even begin to comprehend how the strong, beautiful girl in front of him hated herself from the inside out. "I'll never be able to tell you how much you mean to me," he finally offered, the words the only answer he could give her. "I'll never be able to show you how wonderful you are. But I just want you to know, Spencer, that I wouldn't trade you for anything. No matter what happened to you or what new baggage you come with, you are all I want. All I will ever want. There is nothing on this planet that could ever change how I feel about you. I think we've proved that, time and time again," he chuckled.

Her eyes softened as her defenses cracked ever so slightly, the small voice inside her head that said she wasn't worthy hushing itself away for a mere moment and she used the silence as an opportunity to divulge deeper into his arms, attempting to cover every inch of his body with a part of her's.

"I love you, Toby," she swore against his shoulder, curling herself around him like a ribbon. "I meant every word I said that night at Ali's. I love you more than I will ever love anything, in this life."

He pressed his lips to her hairline. "I believe you," he assured, his mouth morphing into a smile. "And I hope that one day, you'll believe me too."

* * *

"Babe," Toby murmured, his lips kissing her hair.

"Mmm," she groaned, instinctively leaning away from whatever was trying to wake her.

The cop chuckled, his hand moving to rub her lower back. "You need to take an Aspirin," he reminded, holding out a pill and a glass of water.

His words got her attention, as she was beginning to feel achy all over again. It wouldn't be long before she was in pain, just like that morning.

"What time is it?" She asked groggily as she sat up and shoved the pain killer in her mouth like an old pro.

"Almost five," he shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Five?" She repeated, the sheer outrage that should have accompanied the word falling flat. "Is all I do anymore sleep?"

"It was only a couple hours, Spence. And you're still recovering. You need to rest. Especially when you go out-"

"And have meltdowns all over the sidewalk."

He made a face. "It wasn't a meltdown," he opposed.

"Yeah, okay, Tobes." She rolled her eyes, chugging the entire glass of water. "God, that tasted awful."

"Then why'd you just drink the entire thing?"

"I was thirsty."

"Water all tastes the same, Spencer."

She used her foot to shove him. "No, it does not."

"It's all in your head," he insisted, smirking now, knowing how to get her riled up.

"Hotel tap water tastes significantly different from bottled water-"

"And your parents' fancy water?" He teased.

"What about _your_ parents' fancy water? That your dad refuses to buy at the store?"

"My parents' water tastes like shit, thank you very much. My dad's too cheap to actually spend money on water, so he literally recycles their old plastic bottles and refills them himself. Probably with the garden hose instead of the tap."

The brunette cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, I thought all water tasted the same?"

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly, caught. "Okay, you win," he surrendered. His large hands cradled her head, leaning down to kiss her forehead before standing up and taking her glass to the sink.

"Have you talked to my parents lately?" She asked as she pushed the blankets off, reaching for the shirt he'd discarded earlier.

"Yeah," he called over his shoulder. "Your dad."

"What'd he say?"

"Call your mom?"

She paused her task, furrowing her brow. "That's all?"

Toby sighed, making his way back towards her. "I don't know if you noticed but me and your dad don't have a ton to talk about."

She laughed, suddenly imagining the awkward conversation, Toby caught between his introverted nature and his slight disdain that had formed during the time he was constantly in Peter Hastings' presence. "He probably had a client to get back to. Pretty sure that's what he planned on doing after I was released and out of his hair."

The cop surprised her, taking a moment to run his hands up her arms, moving to rub her shoulders before speaking. "You know, you don't have to pretend like it doesn't bother you. The way your parents act. The way they can never find a balance. They're either micromanaging you or they're almost oblivious-"

" _Almost_ oblivious? They couldn't give a damn less about me at the moment," she corrected. "But I'm tired of letting them dictate my mood. If they are going to ignore me, then I'm not calling my mom back. I've been out of the hospital for almost three days and she hasn't checked in on me. She can wait longer then."

Toby nodded supportively, taking her lead once again. His hands reached for her's, tugging her closer as he sat back down on the bed. "And what would you like to do, while we ignore your father's request?"

"Probably eat. We never even got our food this morning," she realized. "I'm sorry about that-"

"Its fine, babe," the cop assured, pulling her further so that she was straddling his lap. "Emily dropped me off a burger while you were sleeping."

"That was nice of her. You think she'd deliver us food from Buccoli's?"

"Buccoli's delivers, my love, with the excellent memory," Toby teased, nuzzling her neck.

"I _do_ have a excellent memory." She narrowed her eyes at his joke. "And you really better be careful. You're dealing with low-blood-sugar Spencer right now and I think you and me both know she isn't very fun."

"I'll call the restaurant," he instantly amended, reaching for his cell phone on the nightstand. "What's their number?"

"Oh, you don't remember, my love?" She snickered as she took the phone out of his hand and dialed it herself.

"It isn't easy to have your memory," he teased, completely missing the double meaning his words held.

She flinched, immediately alerting him that he'd said something very wrong.

Before he could even put the pieces together, before he could even begin to connect the dots, she chuckled humorlessly. "Trust me, you don't want my memory."

* * *

After they'd ordered in, after they stuffed their faces full of Spencer's favorite Italian cuisine and cherry soda, they moved back towards the bed, their favorite spot in the cramped up room.

"I really am sorry for what I said," he murmured once again, pressing a tender kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Tobes, you didn't mean anything by it-"

"Still," he insisted. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She smiled reassuringly. "You have been nothing short of amazing to me. Especially today. Don't be so hard on yourself just because. . . I'm a little oversensitive."

He still didn't look comforted, as he turned back towards the television, flipping through the TV channels without checking to see what was playing.

"Give me that." She snagged the remote. "At this rate, you're going to have us watching _When A Man Loves A Woman_."

His expression shifted from contrite to confused. "What's that?"

"You don't know _When A Man Loves A Woman_?" She stared him in disbelief. "Andy Garcia? Meg Ryan? Saddest movie in the world?"

"Saddest movie in the world?" He snorted. "Didn't you make me watch _Life Is Beautiful_? Or _La vita e bella_?"

"Okay, fine," she caved. "Maybe you have me there. But still. You can't just not watch _When A Man Loves A Woman_."

He chuckled at her insistence, about to say more when his girlfriend's eyes widened. "Spence?"

"Didn't those guys say this morning that they watched me on the news?" She asked abruptly.

_"That's the chick from the news, dude."_

Toby's mouth pressed into a hard line, unsure how to answer that. "Yeah, I guess."

"And Martin Kayne said the same thing? Right?" Any emotion that previously colored her tone had evaporated.

_"You're the little girl from the news?"_

"Yes," the cop sighed, instantly helpless once again.

There was complete silence between them for an entire minute, her mocha brown eyes glue unshakably to the screen in front of her, the TV guide hovering over the title _Rosewood News 5:00_. Finally, she stated without a question or infliction, "We're watching it."

"Spence," Toby sighed as he grabbed one end of the remote, trying to seize control without pissing her off. "Please. We don't need to see that. _You_ don't need to see that."

"Why not?" She argued, squeezing her hand around the TV clicker, refusing to relinquish it.

He held onto the other end, just as stubborn. "Because I don't want you to have to go through it twice," he exclaimed. "They're going to show actual news footage of that night."

"Well then I need to see it," she insisted, a fierce conviction in her eyes. Seeing that look, the look he could only associate with her and a wild animal on a mission, Toby's expression shifted and he let go.

"Okay," he whispered, resigned. He almost reached out to touch her, wrap an arm around her but instead, sensing her imminent rejection, he dropped his hand, maintaining a slight distance between their spaces on the bed.

The news anchor, a small, thin, Korean woman, holding a series of paper cards, was mid-sentence when the program filled the screen. ". . . still have no lead suspects in _The Rosewood Massacre_. When reached for comment, Detective Lorenzo Calderon said the following, 'We have a wide range of people who are being investigated. It is a horrific crime and we are taking the time to analyze every piece of evidence we have in our custody. We are, and will continue to, work relentlessly until this case is solved.'"

The words, to her total astonishment, caused the brunette to let out a breath she had no inclining of ever holding. "Spence?" Toby called gently but he received no form of acknowledgment from his girlfriend.

The fact that they said there were many people under investigation raised an incredible weight off her chest. She wasn't their only suspect. They didn't have her pinpointed for a crime she had little, flashing recollections of.

It was entirely possible she was just a routine interview.

Before she could conjure up a way to explain this to Toby, her irritation from moments ago suddenly evaporated, the news program continued, rolling to another screen. A different woman appeared, this time lighter haired and seated at a table with a coffee cup in front of her, the pinnacle of professional and proficient.

In the right hand corner of the screen, a picture of the man sitting in bed next to her popped up.

"Officer Toby Cavanaugh was placed on indefinite suspension the night of the massacre. He couldn't be reached for comment but when we called the station about his removal, Detective John Lowell said the following," Spencer watched intently as the image changed to a quote, fully captivated by the screen in front of her. "'Toby Cavanaugh has not and will not be fired for his actions. He defied orders, protocol and, most importantly, the law, but he did it because a person he loved was in danger that night. We understand and stand by both him and Spencer Hastings.'" The program shifted back to the fair haired female reporter, her tone loosening up and dropping the smallest fragment of professionalism. "I think we all remember that night, seeing on our TVs Officer Cavanaugh carrying out Spencer Hastings." As the woman spoke, as if to prove her words, a video of blurry footage overtook the monitor and it was surreal, the recording of a young cop carrying out a small, limp girl, covered in blood, tears streaming his face, looking down at her and gasping for help, holding her so tight his arms were shaking. He held her so fiercely, so ferociously, protecting her face from the camera's view, his eyes haunted and relieved and so disturbed and so grateful and so fucking confused.

And then she blinked and the guy turned into her boyfriend.

And she became the girl in his arms.

It dawned on her then he wasn't gasping for help, he was chanting 'I have you'.

_I have you._

Her entire body was splattered with blood, her face, pressed against Toby, was bleeding and bruised and soaked with snot and tears and traces of other unidentifiable substances. Her hands were shaking, even unconsciously, and her shirt had ridden up, showing the camera the already forming bruises on her abdomen.

"Toby," she whispered, entirely out of words. For the first time in years, she wasn't stunned speechless by a tragedy. She was stunned out of awe. Awe of his love for her. Awe of the image of him, selflessly rescuing her straight out of a nightmare. Awe of the fact that he could have died, that he had gotten kicked out of a job-however temporary-and he had made himself an outcast all over again, without a second thought. Because of her.

She didn't realize she had clicked off the program until the screen went black.

Turning towards him, feeling like she was stuck in slow motion, her chocolate eyes wide as saucers, she just whispered, "I can't believe you did that."

He matched her expression, reverential and so full of disbelief. For entirely different reasons. "You knew I did that," he reminded her gently. "You knew I ran in there and I got you the hell out."

"I know, it's just. . ."

He finished the thought for her, already knowing what she meant. "It's different. Seeing is truly believing."

She swallowed hard as tears of love filled her eyes. "Was -A still in there?" She questioned, the words just falling off her lips, not even getting permission her brain anymore. "When you saved me, was -A still in the building?"

The cop looked away, getting misty-eyed himself. "I don't know. I really don't. I saw you and said your name and you woke up and-" he cut himself off, his baby blues trailing down to his lap before back up again to meet her unwavering gaze. "And I heard somebody coming so I grabbed you and ran the other direction. As fast as I could."

She didn't say anything else, her brain jumbled, still trying to process the entire spectacle, still trying to wrap her mind around this and understand. Understand how the love he had for her trumped his own self-preservation. Understand how it was possible that the way she felt about him, how truly and wholly she loved him could ever be reciprocated back to her. Understand how someone could possibly be so wonderful and so pure of heart and still want her. Understand how there could be a person out there, so sick, so ghastly, that they'd ever commit a crime this heinous, ever choose to put _anyone_ through the hell she was facing every second of the day, how anyone could ever choose to do whatever unspeakable acts had been committed that night inside the bloodstained walls of that building.

Understand how she could ever possibly grow irritated with the one person who would save her, above everything and everyone, even at the cost of himself. "I'm sorry," she finally croaked, her voice no louder than a breath.

His expression changed as he saw the guilt fill every feature on her face. He stared at her, unable to comprehend what she was thinking. "Why? Spence, why would _you_ be sorry?" When she didn't say anything else, didn't explain, he reached out and, once again, tugged her closer to him. "Come here."

She sniffled as she willing climbed into his lap. "I'm sorry I've been such a monster," she murmured into his shoulder. "I'm sorry I made us watch that."

He was shaking his head before she had even finished. "No, baby. I'm sorry I tried to stop you. I'm the one constantly saying you're in control-"

She cut him off, unable to hear him blame himself for anything when she'd just watched him rescue her out of a literal massacre. "You're right to be concerned, Tobes. I have literally had some sort of episode every single day since waking up in the hospital. Sometimes multiple times a day."

"That's not true," he disagreed softly.

"Okay, fine, every other day then."

He chuckled quietly, pressing his lips to her hairline. "We're going to figure this out."

She let out a soft sigh, her face still against his chest. "I know."

"Together," he promised, looking down at her, meeting her watery eyes.

She smirked lightly, her eyelids falling shut. "I trust you." She ran her hand against his cheek, rubbing his angel soft skin with her palm. "You're my hero. You know that, right?"

Her words elicited a smile, a pure, unadulterated smile. His baby blues filled with so much love, so much compassion, so much veneration.

Instead of responding verbally to her sentiment, instead of coming up with his own, their roles absolutely reversed from hours ago, he leaned down, nudging her nose with his own and tilted her face upwards. He connected their lips with an urgency she hadn't felt in years.

It was obvious that when they slept together the night before that he'd wanted it. He'd _more_ than wanted it. He had come even before she had and at first indication she was hungry for more, he was ready to jump at it in less than a second's notice.

But he hadn't actually been the one to physically initiate it and as much as she appreciated that, as much as she loved her boyfriend for being so giving and so altruistic than he would allot her total control over their sex life, she'd desperately missed this. This version of him. The one that was hungry and concupiscent and desperate for her. The one that wouldn't hesitate to pick her up and carry her up the stairs, the moment her parents left the house and she got that certain gleam in her eyes.

He laid her on her back, keeping his arms from around her, tugging at the shirt she'd put on barely over an hour ago, visibly grateful that she wasn't wearing a bra.

She made quick work, yanking his shirt over his head, feeling his abs with both hands, barely able to focus on anything besides his mouth on her neck, his hands slipping down her sides, his jeans being discarded to the floor.

"I love you," she murmured huskily into his ear. "I love you more than life itself."


	15. Chapter Fifteen

It was strange how time could pass and yet, in certain moments, moments of clarity, it was almost as if nothing were different.

There was a certain euphoria that overcame her whenever she was with the one man who she loved with every atom of her body. A euphoria that appeared when they were close, both physically and emotionally. When they were so connected, it felt like there was nothing in this life that could ever seep between them again.

It was moments like those that she was the most honest, the most uncensored, the most emotionally naked.

"You wanna know something fucked up," she murmured, her voice husky and quiet and _honest_ as she gazed tranquilly into his eyes.

"What?"

"A part of me-a bigger part than I even want to say-was almost a little happy in the hospital. When my parents were constantly there," she owned. The cop's expression was so understanding, so insightful, grasping exactly what she meant without her even having to vocalize it. Even still though, she wanted to. "It's terrible and bizarre and really, really unnerving because of the reasons I was there but… I liked the fact that I mattered for once to them. I was finally was the center of their lives. They were there, every second they could be, worrying about _me_ and not Melissa." She paused to chuckle humorlessly to herself, finally breaking eye contact and subsequently looking downwards, at the sheets they were tangled up in. "It's really fucked up that I feel like that, isn't it?"

"No." He laughed and shook his head, his eyes offering her only complete understanding. Too much to just be sympathizing with her. Enough that he had to be emphasizing. He took a small breath before opening up as well, their love making also bringing him a tranquility that brought on a new level of honesty. "I used to have this really awful fantasy about telling my dad what Jenna was doing to me," he admitted. "I would imagine him flying off the handle and telling my step-mom and flipping out on Jenna and. . . and, I guess, protecting me." The sensitive cop paused for a second, shutting his eyes and taking in a small breath before lamenting, "At first, I just did it so I could imagine it ending. As a coping mechanism to get through it. But then, I still sometimes imagine it, even now. Just so I can picture my dad actually _knowing_ and knowing that I wasn't the culprit and that I'm not the screw-up he still believes I am. It's all a daydream but it's nice to pretend that he would actually take my side. That he would turn on Jenna if he knew what she'd done to me."

At his admission, the brunette stared at him, at loss for words. "Toby," she whispered, her eyes glued to his face. She wracked her brain for something to say but all that came out was, "I never knew that. You've never told me that before."

He offered her a somewhat forlorn half smile. "I've never told anyone that before."

She bit her lip and felt her body physically sag, feeling the same as she always did whenever the topic of Jenna and his sexual abuse came up. Powerless.

Probably, she realized, akin to how he felt much of the time when he had to watch her be tortured ceaselessly. "I'm never going to let her touch you again," she promised definitively.

He chuckled, leaning in closer to press a kiss to her soft cheek. "My knight and shinning armor."

She cracked then and wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling into his throat as he rolled onto his back, bringing her with him.

The subject of Jenna dredged up an even worse taste in her mouth than usual, her stomach twisting into knots at even the sound of the vile girl's name.

Desperate to rid herself of this feeling, desperate to bring back the sensation, the ecstasy, the euphoria and, more than anything, desperate to give the boy holding her tightly to his chest a million memories of making love to her to replace the traumatizing, humiliating recollections of being raped by his step-sister, she vigorously leaned in and pressed her lips to his throat, down his neck, onto his chest underneath her's, his weakest spot.

That was all it took for him to follow her lead.

* * *

 

"I'm so scared," she whispered, minutes after they were finished, cuddled together, her legs between both of his, her head on his chest.

"Scared?" He prompted, his voice as loud as a breath.

"That this will change me. Forever." She bit her lip, digging deep inside, to the ugliest and most vulnerable parts of her. "After what happened in high school, I did pretty much anything and everything I could to, I guess revert back to who I once was. Who I thought I was supposed to be. And we both know that didn't work but…" She paused to look up at him, shrugging slightly. "At least I was able to get back some semblance of who I once was. I don't even know if that's possible now."

His large, gentle hands rubbed her back slowly and softly. "But I thought you didn't want to go back to who you used to be?" He questioned, confused. "That's what _you_ said. That you wouldn't want to go back to the person you used to be, that you just wanted to be happy."

She was nodding before he was even finished. "I know," she admitted. "I know I said that but, after the dollhouse, everything was different. Everything was so dark and haunted and blurry and it took me more than a year to realize that… it wasn't anything but me. I was the one who was different and I just wanted everything to go back to the way it once was. When everything was easy and simple and I was in _control_. I just couldn't be the person I was when I entered that bunker."

He accepted her admission, allowing it to sink in. "Why did we never talk about this?" He finally asked, nearly inaudible.

To his surprise, she already knew the answer to that without having to think. "You weren't there," she explained. "You weren't there with me and I needed you. You grounded me, better than any drug or pill and without you physically there I had to find a way to cope. I guess I ended up shutting you out in the process."

She felt his Adam's apple bob against her head. "Why didn't you ever tell me that?"

She leaned upwards, peering into his eyes now, his sad, miserable blue eyes, offering him nothing but the small, knowing gleam in her irises. "Why didn't you come to Georgetown with me?"

It was her turn to be taken aback by the fact that he needed no time to think her question over either. "I thought I was doing what was best for you," he confessed. "I thought you wanted space. You always complained that you were too dependent on me and that you needed to learn to cope on your own. I wanted to help you so badly but-"

"I pushed you away," she finished for him, sighing as she laid her head back on his chest. "I made you think I didn't want you there."

"I just thought I was getting your way. I thought if I gave you space, I could save us." He paused, running his fingers through her hair, before musing dejectedly. "Somehow I ended up losing you anyway."

She smiled humorlessly against him. "For the record," she declared sincerely, "I'll always want you with me. You're my safe place to land. There hasn't been a time that I haven't wished you were there with me, by my side, since the day you kissed me in _this_ parking lot."

"For the record," he repeated, a grin finding its way across his face, "there hasn't been a time that I haven't been completely in love with you, since the day I kissed you in _this_ parking lot."

She smirked against his chest, pressing a kiss to his bare skin. "Good," she remarked lightly, running her hand down his stomach once again.

"Actually," he amended suddenly. "I should probably correct that. There hasn't been a time that I haven't been completely in love with you, since the day I woke up to you spooning me, in room 214."

She flew upwards, her eyes wide as he'd ever seen them. There was a slight twinge of embarrassment hiding underneath her shock. "You knew that?"

"Of course." He snickered not-so-subtly, pulling her back into the circle of his arms.

She squirmed, pouting bluntly. "You let me think you slept through all that," she mumbled.

The cop chuckled now, leaning down to press a kiss to the stitches in her forehead, brushing her bangs back. "You were so cute, trying to pretend you hadn't been cuddling me the whole night."

"Oh, yeah, coming from the guy who innocently asked if I had slept at all?" She shot back and was rewarded with a wide, abashed smile.

"Okay, you're right," he agreed, his hand tracing circles on her hip. "We're both liars."

She smirked up at him, suddenly liking the term that she'd been identified as for the last seven years, when it was partnered with him.

"What is it?" He asked, noting the look beneath her eyes.

"Huh?"

"Something else is on your mind," he insisted, completely positive of his assessment.

She caved easily, still finding it incomprehensible how he always just knew every inner working of her brain. It was something she never would get used to but was no longer marveling at. "I'm just worried, that's all."

"About not being able to put this behind you? Because, Spe-"

"No," she cut off, a faraway look taking over the gaze in her eyes now. "It's not that."

He waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he gently pressed, "Then what about?"

"Becoming too different from the girls." She rolled her tongue around the side of her cheek, realizing how juvenile all this sounded. But this was _Toby_. He'd adamantly told her once she could tell him anything. That she was _his_ , that he'd never think she was ridiculous or overly emotional or redundant. She didn't believe it at the time or maybe she just couldn't comprehend the idea that someone loved her that much, but either way, she held a ludicrous amount of confidence when she was in his arms and before she had time to contemplate it in her brain, her mouth was pouring out words that she'd only ever thought to herself. "When we were in high school and our lives were complete chaos, we were so connected, it was weird. I got to college and everyone was almost glad to be rid of their high school friends but I had such a hard time letting anyone new in. You remember that. The girls used to be like my family. When we were in high school, all we really had was each other. But now," she trailed off for a moment. "Now we're so separate and it's strange. I don't rely on them like I used to. I rely on _you_. But then I remember that I always did and it's just, this whole thing makes me feel so different from them. Like they can't relate and they don't understand me anymore and like they're trying but suddenly I'm an outsider, looking in, at the people who I used to know inside and out."

"Babe," was the first word that slipped out of his mouth, his voice tender. His soft eyes searched her's, understanding why she felt this way but feeling his heart break for her anyway. He wracked his brain for a response, but all that came to mind was the blatant reality staring them dead in the face. "Honestly, Spencer? You might. You might grow completely away from them. We don't know the future. We don't know what might happen. But what I do know is those girls love you, more than anything. Even Ali. Alright, they will _always_ be your family and they'll always be there for you if you need them. Trust me, I know it."

She nodded, absorbing his words. She'd always trusted his assessment of people even more than her own. To the point it was almost unhealthy.

Even when she was so far gone inside of her own head, whether it be to drugs or trauma, he was the one who showed her right from wrong. He was her voice of reason. Her conscience. The one thing she could trust, above everything else, when her world was falling apart and there wasn't a soul in sight to rely on.

The true definition of her safe place to land.

With that thought playing through her head, on repeat, she leaned upwards and connected their lips one more time, slipping her tongue into his mouth.

Her safe place to land.

Her fairy-tale, once upon a time.

Her entire heart.

Her everything.

* * *

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, his eyes falling shut. His words were no louder than a breath and had she been deep in thought, she knew she would have missed his apology altogether.

"For what?" The brunette instantly perked up, moving upwards from her position against his chest.

"For not fighting harder on staying here today." He offered her a heartbreaking, dejected smile, the guilt in his water blue eyes growing more prominent by the second.

"Toby," she murmured, staring up at him, both perplexed and baffled. "What're you talking about? You did try to get us to stay in."

"Not hard enough," he disagreed, his voice beginning to shake.

"Babe," she sighed, dangerously close to rolling her eyes. She fought the action, knowing what he was feeling was real, genuine guilt and her exasperation would not help. She worked to change her tone to an even level. "You had no way of knowing what was going to happen," she assured.

"I had an awful feeling about going there," he maintained still. "I _felt_ like something would go wrong."

"But it didn't," she pointed out, a small, ironic laugh ejecting itself from her throat. "It didn't go wrong at all. Not in the end. Me and you are closer than ever. That's a good thing, isn't it?" To emphasize her point, she leaned down and placed a kiss onto the base of his neck, curling back up against him.

To her astonishment, her kisses didn't work. Not in the way they usually did. They were such a physical couple. They expressed their love in actions more so than words. Until recently, their I love you's only came in rapid succession when they were geographically apart. Whenever they were together, they both found their love language in affection.

Her mouth being unable to provide him comfort meant that this was something really weighing on him.

"I still should have known," he whispered after a second, his voice diminishing in volume once again.

She sat up, meeting his eyes with a defiant, discerning look in her's. "Why?"

"Because I love you," he stated, as if it were obvious. In his mind, it probably should have been. "Because no one knows you like I do. Because I learned to trust my instincts a long time ago. When it came to you and in life in general."

"Yeah, well, I knew that you thought it was a bad idea to go and I still chose to, so I should share in this guilt you have decided to take all for yourself," she declared, her tone light. She traced her fingers in circles around his chest, attempting to relax him, even just a little.

He offered her a cheerless smile, dismissing her statement. "You didn't think it would end that bad though. I did."

Her face changed, morphing into a somewhat dismayed expression. "Actually, I did."

His head snapped towards her. "What?"

She swallowed, adverting her eyes before coming clean. "I thought about the possibility of it ending badly too. I just wouldn't _let_ myself really consider it happening though. Not once I saw that you did."

It was his turn to look at her with quiet shock. "What do you mean?"

"I wanted to prove to you that you didn't have to worry about me," she admitted, feeling the same guilt he'd been displaying moments before. "I was determined to show you I was alright. That I was getting better."

His reaction caught her off-guard. He slowly shut his eyes, bringing up one arm to cover his face, groaning exhaustedly.

"Tobes?" She called softly, after moment.

"Promise me, Spencer, that you will never think like that again," he stipulated, clearly frustrated. But still, his tone was so calm and his eyes were so loving and it was all verging on the edge of an oxymoron but it was still so Toby and somehow she still felt so safe and so loved. Before she could defend her reasoning for why she did what she did, he continued. "There is no limit in my mind to what I think you can do. I don't get apprehensive about things because I think you're weak or unstable. But if there really is something that we both think could go wrong, don't decide to do it in defiance, because you think you need to prove you can."

"Don't you get it?" She pressed, attempting to get him to see things from her eyes. "That's what I do. That's what I've always done. I have always pushed myself through any obstacle in my way to show anyone who doubts me that I'm strong enough-"

"Spencer," he cut off, his voice even softer now. "I'm not your family. I'm not trying to challenge you or bring you down. And I know, baby, I know, that this is not easy to grasp because of how you were raised, but I would never do anything to try to make you prove yourself or challenge you. Okay, you don't have to prove yourself to me. We could be cooped up in this hotel room for the next ten years and you would still be enough to me. You are everything to me. And all I want is for you to be okay."

She shut her eyes to hold in the saltwater threatening to pour out, as he hit nearly every insecurity in her mind. "I'm sorry," she choked out, her already raspy voice hitting a new level of guttural. "I'm sorry," she repeated as she threw herself back against his chest with reckless abandon.

"I'm not mad," he promised, wrapping his arms around her the second she was against him. "I just don't want you thinking that you have anything to prove. Not to me."

"I know," she whispered, trying to calm her emotions once again as she felt herself getting choked up.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to her forehead and she knew it was a lost cause as the tears began to fall.

"Toby," she murmured hoarsely, as he rubbed her back.

"Hmmm?"

"If you had such a bad feeling, then why'd you even agree to come today?" She peered up at him, her eyes genuinely curious.

He gave her a look, as if it were obvious. "Because, Spence, no matter what happens, it's still _your_ choice. It'll always be your choice. I'd give up a limb if it helped you but I'm not the one in control. And I don't want to be." He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. "You're still alpha. You'll always be my alpha."

She shut her eyes, his words eliciting a smirk now. "Yeah?" She prompted, her mood rising.

"Yeah." He nodded, returning her smile.

"Good," she quipped, her smirk growing wider as she climbed on top of his chest, pressing their bodies together suggestively. "I like being alpha."

His smile turned right into a smirk then too. Leaning up to kiss her, he whispered coyly, "trust me, I know."

* * *

"Tobes, can you get the door?" Spencer asked through clenched teeth.

He slowly got up from his chair, leaving her miserably sitting on top of the table, nursing her headache.

It was barely short of being a migraine, she concluded to herself, the pain too strong to be bothered to share her realization out loud.

She had woken up that morning with a pounding tension headache that relentlessly wouldn't let her go back to sleep. Laying there, passively, cuddled up to Toby hadn't forced the pain away and it hadn't helped with the ache circulating through the rest of her body either, as she was due for another over-the-counter painkiller.

She'd gone as far as to wake up her boyfriend and tried to kiss her headache away, but when the throbbing hadn't let up, she had to break off the kiss and resign herself to the misery.

The cop returned only seconds later, speaking in a gentle tone, as if her pain was caused by a loud noise. "Em's here to see you," he murmured quietly.

"I can see," she retorted flatly.

Her tone had little effect on him, aware that her irritability was solely about her headache. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, sweetly before sitting back down in his chair.

The brunette made her way over to her friend, not even bothering to hide her wretched expression, dragging her feet as she walked.

"Rough night?" The tan girl inquired when she was close enough, leaning in for a hug.

"Rough morning," Spencer corrected, her voice muffed by her friend's shirt.

"How are you?" Emily's eyes were filled with anxiety, clearly asking about more than the headache.

"Fine." The brunette nodded, her eyes shooting to Toby across the room, yesterday's events playing through her mind, everything he'd done for her flickering back to the forefront of her brain. She didn't quite understand how she ended up with such a selfless, compassionate, loving man, but she didn't care. He was her's and he was all she'd ever want.

"It's okay if you're not okay, Spence," her friend assured. "I can't even imagine how you must feel-"

"I'm fine," she insisted, realizing then that the last time her friend saw her, she was in hysterics, begging to be taken away. Working to liven up her tone, she attempted to force the frustrating ache in her head out of her expression. "Really, Em. I'm better."

The dark haired girl studied her for a hot second. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Spencer chucked slightly, sitting on the edge of the motel bed.

Emily took a seat next to her. "Does Toby have anything to do with your well-being?" She looked over her shoulder, peering back to the cop who was currently searching something on his laptop.

"Yes." The brunette nodded, smiling now in spite of herself. "Of course, he does."

Her friend returned the gesture. "He loves you a lot," she mused.

"I know. And I so don't deserve it."

Emily's expression turned south. "Spence," she nearly rebuked and for less than a second, it was reminiscent of Spencer's childhood nanny. "You, of all people, deserve to have someone who loves you unconditionally."

Spencer's smile turned into a grimace and her headache had nothing to do with it now. "I'm not so sure about that," she disagreed, almost inaudibly.

Seeing the brunette's stubborn streak beginning to resurface, Emily changed the subject without a segue. "Have you spoken to Aria?"

Spencer stared her, perplexed. "No? Should I have?"

"Oh." The raven haired girl's eyebrows pulled together. "No, I just thought she'd check in on you, at least."

The bruised girl still wasn't comprehending–and that was a foreign concept to her. "What's that mean?"

Emily looked like she wished she'd never even asked now. "Aria just got really upset after you left," she disclosed hesitantly, like she was telling her something she shouldn't.

Spencer blinked once, twice, three times, four. By the time she got to five, she pressed, "Aria got upset how?"

"She flipped out and started yelling at all of us, in front of what was left of that crowd. Said we were all at fault for what was happening to you. That if we hadn't always relied on you, maybe you wouldn't have been chosen to be kidnapped."

The brunette just stared at her for a solid minute on end, her mouth opening slightly. "What? W-why? What made her snap?"

Emily chose her words very carefully. "Aria had never seen you have one of your attacks before…"

The tan girl, quite obviously was trying to _avoid_ upsetting her but somehow the words still managed to cut through her like a knife. Her stomach dropped before her brain could even catch up and it took her a minute to realize that it was culpability that was disturbing her. It was the fact that the girls who she even now still considered closer to her than her actual family, were falling apart along with her.

She felt like a drop of poison, slowly but steadily seeping into every single person she cared about's life and killing them, little by little. She felt like an awful friend, even if this was so beyond her own control. She felt like a terrible person for not even checking in on the girls, acting entitled enough that she expected them to come to her. She felt like a disaster for not even being able to keep her own thought process straight anymore, a feat that only had slipped away from her a number of times before in her life.

She felt like a murderer.

Emily interrupted her train of self-hatred. "I just came here to make sure everything was alright with you after yesterday. I was here last night too," she amended, glancing at the cop a few feet back, appearing seemingly oblivious to the girls' conversation. "But Toby said you were exhausted and passed out."

"I was," Spencer confirmed, as if she needed to prove that she wasn't avoiding her friends. Looking around, as if noticing for the first time the absence, the brunette asked, "Where's Hanna?"

"With Caleb, I think. I don't know really. I spent the night at Ali's. Hanna wasn't really in a great mood after Aria's tirade." Emily paused for a second before elaborating. "Aria sort of went off on Hanna especially. She said that if Hanna hadn't told you to date Caleb, we all would have been more focused on -A instead of relationship drama and you may have not been kidnapped."

Spencer bit her lip, knowing in that area, at least, she was guiltier than Hanna. "I'm really sorry," she whispered, her eyes falling into her lap. Shame overtook her body, _almost_ overshadowing her headache.

The darker girl looked at her adamantly. "Spence, none of this is your fault. You're the one that we should be apologizing to-"

"No, Em, that's not true," the brunette cut off. "It's my drama and I have no business involving all you in it."

She meant it. This was her nightmare and her nightmare alone. She may not understand why she was chosen to be the one in the massacre, it may be a complete mystery what happened that night and, if she were being honest, a part of her didn't feel like she was going to get through this in one piece, but it was evident that her trauma was tearing her friends apart.

And she couldn't live with herself if she hurt them.

No matter what happened, no matter how isolated from them she may feel, she would never, in her right mind, allow herself to bring them down with her.

In the back of her mind, she couldn't believe she was really allowing Toby to suffer alongside her either, but she also knew, selfishly, that if he wasn't there, she would completely lose her grip on reality.

He was her lifeline, her light at the end of the tunnel, her fairytale and her safe haven. She didn't even know anymore where she ended and he began.

He was like her silver lining in this entire mess. The one thing that was still pulling her back when she felt like she was about to fly off the edge. The thing that still motivated her to get up in the morning, not matter what pain, physical or mental, undoubtedly awaited her that day,

"You should leave," the brunette murmured and she wasn't sure if it was the headache or the sudden insight of how many lives she was wrecking, but her stomach was cramping up and her neck felt hot and her vision was blurring and for the tenth time, she wondered if she didn't _belong_ in a mental ward, more than Mona, more than Cece, more than Bethany Young.

"Spence," Emily called, her expression shifting to one of distress. Her head whipped around, searching for Toby in an instant.

He was already rushing over to them, not even meeting their friend's terrified eyes. "Spencer," he murmured, his tone even. Without an ounce of hesitation, he dropped to his knees in front of her, meeting her at eye level. "Breathe, Spence," he instructed, already knowing what was wrong.

When she didn't comply, he placed his hands on either side of her face. "Baby," he whispered, his breath hitting her pale skin. "Shut your eyes and breathe."

Somehow, peering only into his deep oceanic blues and nothing else, the wheels in her head turned and her brain kicked started back to life. Her eyes fell shut and she felt oxygen enter her lungs once again. Unconsciously, her body relaxed under her boyfriend's touch, as he ran his hands down her arms and back.

The first words out of her mouth weren't, surprisingly, to the man she loved and felt connected to with every ounce of her soul. They were to her best friend.

"This is what I was talking about, Em," she stated before her eyes were even open. Her tone now had gained a level of rasp that it didn't contain before.

The tan girl struggled to respond. "Spence-"

"I'm a disaster," the brunette stated, point blank, just as her eyes reopened, with a fierier gaze than even before. "I'm a ticking time bomb."

"Spence," Toby murmured, wounded by his girlfriend's words and the level of conviction in them.

She ignored him, knowing that if she let him seep in, if she acknowledged his tender words and his unhindered faith in her, she may never get what she needed to say out. "I'm going to blow up one day and I can't have you or any of the others standing too close. Go," she demanded, gesturing towards the motel room door. "Get out. Stop worrying about me, and take care of yourself. Tell the others to do the same thing. No, better yet, _make_ the others do the same thing."

Now it was Emily's turn to speak, as there was nothing left for Spencer to say. But when she opened her mouth, it was obvious that words escaped her. "Spencer," the baffled girl whispered, her tone almost as dejected and insistent as Toby's. "I'm not going to do that. None of us are. We're going to all get through this. Together."

"Em!" Spencer snapped now, only stopping to catch her breath once again when Toby rubbed her shoulder gently. "You're not listening to me. I said-"

"Spencer, I don't think you're listening to me," Emily cut off and strangely, in the back of her mind, Spencer noted that it pleased her that her strong-willed friend still wasn't afraid to fight with her, just as intensely as she always had. Same as it brought her relief when her parents took Melissa's side back in the hospital.

_Old habits die hard._

_Old habits, even the most unhealthy ones, bring relief to the deepest pits of your soul._

"We're your friends and we're not going to leave you, no matter how self destructive you may feel," Emily insisted, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Her voice, dying down as the throb in her head began growing stronger, dully croaked out, "You have no idea what you're saying."

She met Toby's eyes just as the words landed on Emily and her chest hurt, at the unconcealed pain in his eyes. He hurt, seeing her like this, knowing this is what she truly believed was best, that her friends shouldn't be dragged down by her burdens too. He hurt, knowing what she was trying to do was to protect those she loved and yet, knowing that it would kill her if they actually did listen.

Before either of the girls could speak again, Toby was actually the one to end the conversation. "I think you should leave, Em," he suggested and his voice was not unkind. He sent Emily a sympathetic look and for a second Spencer wondered if she wasn't being entirely irrational, if he wasn't grasping their friend's point of view better than her's.

His hand rubbing her thigh alleviated her insecurity a little and stopped her from feeling betrayed, knowing that he was always on her side, against anything. Even if he didn't see things the same or understand where she was coming from.

"Toby," Emily gaped. "No, that's-"

"I'm not saying don't ever come back," he quickly modified and relief filtered into the tanner girl's expression. Somehow when Toby told her to do something, it held more merit than it would coming from anyone else.

Evidently, it wasn't just Spencer who trusted the cop to show her right from wrong, to guide her to good decisions versus the bad, self-destructive ones she was naturally attracted to. Evidently, it wasn't just her who trusted Toby, like a guardian angel, without reservations, without doubts or questions or fears.

He deserved to have so many more people look at him and see him as he was. A kind hearted, good natured, dedicated, protective, forgiving boy, who loved with every ounce of his being.

He deserved a hundred times better than her.

"I'm saying," Toby's voice pulled her back to reality, "this argument isn't helping anyone right now. Give it time and cool off and come back. Neither of you need a blowout fight right now."

Emily nodded, clearly persuaded by the cop. She stood up from her seat on the bed, next to Spencer. "I'll call you later, alright," she swore as she headed towards the door.

"Okay," was all Spencer offered in return, a small, abashed smile working its way onto her face.

It was a strange thing, to dread and fear pushing those you love most away, and yet, still actively do it. To have an unkindness inside you, an unkindness towards _yourself_ , that lashes out towards those in your vision, towards those who want to help you, towards those you think you're protecting. It was a strange thing to love your friends and still, at times, wish they never saw you again, knowing that the less they did, the less chance there was of you hurting them. That every moment you were surrounded by people, was a moment you could ruin them. Your tragedies could drag them down, rip them apart, away from each other, show them every dark and disturbing thing lingering underneath your skin, show them exactly who they could be if pushed hard enough, show them exactly what they have been afraid of for all these years.

It was even stranger to know that there was someone out there, who loved her more than words or rationale or life itself. Someone who could look into her eyes and see every dark thought she'd ever had, and still call her their angel. Someone who loved her beyond reason and morals and truth.

Someone who would give up everything in their life to be with her, in spite of _who_ she was. In spite of all she could turn out to be.

She was like a gun, spinning round and round in a circle, the trigger so close to being pulled, the kick just moments away. And whoever was in her path became her target.

Once again, her thoughts were interrupted by the boy with sandy brown hair, who was still kneeling in front of her. As their friend exited the motel, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, before pressing another an inch away.

"You know, I wasn't saying you were irrational?" He asked against her silky soft skin.

"I know." She swallowed visibly.

"I never want you to think that I'm insinuating anything." He pulled back to lock their eyes together, pressing his forehead to her's. "I just didn't want to see one more thing cause you pain. Especially after what you said this morning, about the girls-"

"Baby, I know," she reassured, her voice barely a whisper. "I know."

Her arms encircled his neck, burrowing her face in her shoulder, and she was surprised when she felt him pick her up.

He carried her, as if she weighed absolutely nothing, over to the chair by his laptop, sitting down with her arms still around his neck. "Does your head still hurt?" He asked attentively, moving one hand from around her narrow waist to massage her temple.

"Yeah," she confirmed, no point in even denying it. It was obvious from her still unhappy expression and tense body language that she was experiencing discomfort.

"Do you have any idea what could be causing it?" He inquired, his lips softly pressing against the stitches in her forehead.

"Brain tumor?"

"Spencer."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, giving him a small grimace. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

"Why do you look like that?"

"Look like what?"

"Ashamed," he murmured, his voice gaining an edge.

She shrugged, leaning her head against his shoulder, her ears throbbing and her neck growing tired and the ache spreading to her teeth. "I don't know."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. Just because you're not exactly the person you were before doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you. Emily knows that, Hanna knows that, Aria knows that. Even Alison knows that. No one expects you to be perfect right now, so stop expecting yourself to be miraculously better overnight."

She stared at him, his tirade catching her off guard. "They're snapping at each other because of me," she stated after a minute, though she knew that information was completely irrelevant to anyone but her. "Aria freaked out on all of them and they're not even speaking to each other now. They blame themselves for what's happening to me."

"That isn't your fault," he reaffirmed. "I get why Aria snapped at the others. I really do. But that doesn't mean it's up to you to fix it. It isn't up to you to still be their backbone right now."

Spencer snorted, closing her eyes against his shirt. "I'll always be their backbone." Before he could argue, before he could say anything else, she continued. "Just like you'll always be my safe place to land."

Smiling in spite of everything, the twenty-four year old whispered, leaning down to press his lips against her's. "Always."

* * *

"Babe," Spencer murmured quietly, soothed by the feeling of her boyfriend's hand massaging her scalp. Her headache remained persistent but he refused to give up. "Your phone's vibrating."

Shifting his leg from under her to pull his cell from his pocket, he causally took the call. "Hello?" There was a short pause before Toby's eyes widen faintly with recognition. "Oh hi, Martin," he greeted now, his voice only a little awkward.

Spencer couldn't help but smirk in spite of her pain. She loved him in every aspect, in every facet of life and in any situation, but she couldn't help finding him cute when he was forced to be, in any way, outgoing.

Already knowing this, already been teased about this a thousand times over more than half a decade, Toby didn't even look at her as he pinched her hip gently, upon seeing her grin out of the corner of his eye.

Before she could say anything or even wipe the smirk off her face, Toby's expression changed. "Thank you!" He murmured, his voice uncharacteristically extroverted. "I appreciate you calling me, sir."

As soon as he hung up, Spencer, still situated across his lap, deadpanned, "Sir?"

He gave her a look. "He's nearly double my age, Spence. I think sir is appropriate."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, pinching the bridge of her nose, hoping to end the throbbing in her head. "You're cute when you talk on the phone," she teased quietly.

Now it was his turn to deadpan. "Do you want to make fun of me or do you want to know why Martin called?"

Her muddled mind didn't make the connection until then. "Wait, is this about the apartment? Can we not move in now? The tenets changed their minds, didn't they? I swear, my luck is just–"

"Spencer," Toby interrupted, wrapping both his arms around her waist, pulling her tighter to him. Their noses brushed up against each other suggestively. "The apartment is ours. We can move in next week."

There was a beat of silence for approximately three seconds before the cop's throat was being strangled, his breath being cut off in her chokehold. She ejected something akin to a squeal, which seconds after was followed by a groan as the agonizing ache in her head intensified.

"Maybe we should get you to a doctor," he murmured softly, taking in his girlfriend's predicament for the hundredth time that day.

"I'm fine," she objected, but the ache did bring down some of her excitement. "Tobes?"

"Yeah?"

She opened her mouth before the words even formed on her lips, pondering for a moment. "Why are they letting us move in so soon?"

Toby blinked once before, very noticeably, masking some sort of expression. "People move into apartments quickly all the time."

She narrowed her eyes into slits, sitting up straighter now to peer over him. "I can tell when you're lying, Tobias."

He flushed slightly at his full name. "Alright, fine," he relented. "I don't know why the tenets are letting us move in so soon."

"Martin said at the open house it was going to be weeks, at least."

"I know." He nodded evenly. "But I really don't want to push our luck."

"Yeah, I guess," she agreed after a moment.

Already seeing where her mind was going, he disputed, "Spencer, you're not their charity case."

"Are you kidding me–"

"You're not," he promised, his eyes gaining a fiery adamancy she loved from the deepest part of her soul.

She rolled her eyes, her headache ripping a lot of the usual fight out of her. "If you're so sure, then call and ask why they're letting us in so quick."

Spencer knew in the back of her mind that really, when it came down to it, what truly bothered her about the idea of being someone's charity case, is the fact that it was a entirely foreign concept for her. She'd never really experienced people feeling pity towards her. Outside of the weeks following her abduction to the dollhouse, there wasn't a time she could recall when people weren't intimidated by her. She was Spencer Hastings. She was the bred to always be the best and the brightest, and when it really came down to it, as much as she hated to own it, as much as she prided herself on never being her sister, as much as she loved to claim she choked on the silver spoon, she had always been known as part of one of the richest families in town and that came with a certain confidence.

Even if she was the black sheep of said family.

She knew it made her self-righteous. She knew in a lot of ways, she hadn't entirely escaped the person her parents molded her to be. She was used to being powerful and sharp and bold and having that stripped away, having that taken from her in any capacity, no matter how much she tried to fight it, was a hard pill to swallow.

She could care less about the amount of money in her bank account. She had Toby and she had everyone she loved still breathing-at least, for the moment. Money didn't buy happiness, she knew.

But, in a lot of ways, it did buy confidence. It did create an aurora around her that she had barely realized, barely seen, as it had always been there. The way people regarded Peter and Veronica Hastings' second born, the way people saw the youngest Hastings daughter, the way people viewed her, had always been impacted by the rich and powerful family she was born into.

Even her friends realized it. Even the people she had lived through some of the worst moments of her entire life with said it, whispering in hushed tones under their breath, snickering and rolling their eyes while snapping back and forth witty retorts about the bottomless, Hastings bank account, all while fully realizing she was trailing right behind them.

_"Well, it's the Hastings, so I'm guessing it costs more than your car."_

_"Not all of us have a Daddy that can write a check to make the boogeyman go away."_

_"You've never had to be charming. You get to act like a total snot-rag, 'cause Mommy and Daddy have a safety-net of cash to catch your fall."_

_"I told Yvonne that I was Green Acres and you were Park Avenue."_

The last one, the freshest memory, the one of Toby and her and a girl who had invaded the sandy haired cop's pure heart, standing in the middle of the street, making small talk, snapped something inside of her. The memory stung her in ways she couldn't even articulate, especially now. Somehow the memory of that day, that specific moment in time, threw her stomach into tighter knots now, as she sat on Toby's lap, than it did as it was actually happening.

She never knew exactly what he meant by that quip. Whatever the meaning, it felt like a sharp stab in the gut and cracked Yvonne up like no other.

She remembered the words, " _he's just kidding_ ", which left Spencer with the impression that he wasn't just kidding and that the dark skinned girl worried as an afterthought that she would take offense to the phrase, and " _we watch a lot of retro TV_ ", which still made no sense to the brunette, whatsoever.

She'd never asked though and not even out of fear or embarrassment but because she literally hadn't even remembered it until this moment.

It felt like a different life, if she was being honest. But then again, five years ago in Rosewood also felt like another life.

Something about the memory shook her to the core. She'd been fine for all of four minutes-not counting the pounding, unrelenting headache-and now, she could feel herself slipping away all over again.

She supposed she should be happy because no memory from the massacre had come back yet today and at this point, after days upon days of repeated flashbacks, she should be counting her fucking blessings.

She wasn't. Because suddenly a memory of the boy she loved with every fractured piece of her heart, was forcing her neck to grow hot and her stomach to violently clench with a dread she couldn't will away and suddenly she felt an antsy trepidation, a harrowing scream buried inside of her, a fight or flight instinct yelling at her to choose.

"Babe, do you want to order in for dinner?" Toby asked gently, noticing instantly the change in her.

"No," she answered, her response quick and inattentive.

"Spence?" The cop murmured again, his concern rapidly mounting.

She refused eye contact, still trying to reconcile her confusion and the blind ache the comment sent through her with every single tender, loving interaction they'd shared since she woke up in the hospital.

It was ridiculous, she rationalized to herself, as she stood up from his embrace. It was ridiculous to feel so stung and so mortified and so self-conscious about an interaction that had occurred weeks ago, that was essentially null and void now, after everything that had happened since, after all they had been through again, after all that had been said and done.

Of course, if she were really thinking back to that day on the street, Spencer realized, with all consuming guilt and exhaustion, Toby had just been told the girl he still loved to his very core, was now officially with his best and nearly only friend.

Of course he had been angry. Of course he had been hurt. Of course he had been upset. He had every right in the world to be.

Maybe when you break up, you no longer owe each other anything. You don't have to be decent to each other. You don't have think of the other's feelings.

That all sounds so good on paper. But the truth is, how can you not owe anything to the person you said was your safest haven in this world? How can you not think of the feelings of the person who was your sole source of hope and understanding for years upon years on end? How can you not still try to do right by the person, who pulled you out of the deepest and darkest part of your life, who held you like a lifeline, who gave up everything for you to be alright, who showed you what it meant to love and be loved, unlike any other person in your life?

How could she really date his best friend and not realize the irreparable damage she was doing to their relationship? Whether they were platonic or romantic, how she not understand the repercussions of her own actions? Wasn't she Spencer Hastings? Didn't she meticulously plan out every detail of her life? Didn't she turn herself inside out for the people she loved most in this world? Didn't the pain she had inflicted, not only on Hanna, but also on the man she still loved with a stronger fervor than she could have ever conjured up for Caleb, ever drive home to her exactly what she was risking? Didn't it occur to her that her blonde best friend wasn't the only one she owed consideration to? More than a strangled apology–to which he'd instantly rebuffed–but a sincere heartfelt conversation?

She knew she would never have done that, under any circumstances under the sun. Because had she told him what she was about to do, had she ever sat down and talked to him about her feelings, had they ever discussed how it made them feel to see the other one move on, she never would gotten with Caleb Rivers. She never would have started the hurricane that threatened to rip apart everything. She never would have pushed Hanna to throw herself in the line of fire, the permanent wedge never would have been driven between the two girls, the fight at the party may have never happened.

And she may never have been kidnapped that night.

Handfuls of people wouldn't have lost their lives.

She wouldn't be a natural disaster, waiting to rain havoc everywhere in sight.

And all of this started with her.

Her and her, alone.

* * *

"Is it your head?" Toby asked, his concern for his girlfriend increasing by the second. "Is your headache getting worse?"

"Its fine, Toby," she assured, though her voice was flat. She hadn't looked him in the eye in nearly three hours, lying now in bed, with her back facing him.

"I don't believe you," he stated, his voice still kind, even when calling her on her bluff.

And she didn't deserve him. She didn't deserve to have someone like him love her.

And she didn't deserve to feel hurt or angry or betrayed, to hold him accountable for anything he thought or said while she was with his best friend.

But a small part of her couldn't completely let it go, couldn't entirely rationalize the hurt away and she didn't know if that made her angry with him or angry with herself.

"Let me give you a back massage," Toby offered desperately, being unable to see her suffering, feeling powerless, the same way he'd always had.

"Toby," Spencer murmured, her voice growing more and more stern by the second, only half focused on what she was saying to him. "I'm just tired."

"I can give you another painkiller," he insisted, his chair scooting across the carpet, already moving towards the pill bottle on the counter. "It's been a couple hours since-"

"I don't want one," she insisted.

"What about if we went for a drive?"

"I just want to stay in bed."

"I could run you a bath?"

"Toby-"

"I could-"

"I said I didn't want to!"

Silence filled the air, as her scream, her aggravated, furious, vulnerable scream, hung between them.

She hadn't yelled at him like that in years.

She had barely yelled at him like that in their first relationship. The notion that something was driving itself between them, that there was a gap forming in between their unbreakable bond, was both terrifying and heart-wrenching to both of them. It nearly brought the cop to his knees, she knew, to feel this wedge squeezing the oxygen out of the love that had sustained them through so much.

That was why he'd always ran away. That was why he'd always skipped town when they were about to hit the jagged, unforgiving rocks.

But, now, standing in the motel room with her, the notion that something was very, very wrong inside the girl he loved was even stronger, and it outweighed any other thing in his mind.

"Can I hold you?" He whispered after a minute of dead quiet, his voice inexplicably raw.

"Just leave me alone," she whispered, barely even looking over her shoulder to say the words.

She knew she was making it worse, cutting him deeper, selfishly causing him pain just because she hurt.

But after coming to the realization that all roads, roads that left almost everyone she'd ever cared about, heartbroken or shell-shocked, roads that got perfectly innocent strangers killed or kidnapped, led back to her, forced all other thoughts in her head to pale in comparison.

After remembering that day on the street, the singular thought that ignited all of this, Spencer just wanted to scream into her pillow and fall into a slumber in which she never had to wake up.

She realized then she was holding her breath and let out a violent exhalation, noting the lack of noise now coming from her boyfriend behind her. She heard him take his seat again before his laptop, but his eyes never left her back and she didn't dare to look at him now, knowing she had just driven a knife so deep into his stomach, driven a distance between them at record speed, destroyed probably any sort of trust he had in their relationship.

She knew if she looked at him, she would crumble. To pieces, bit by bit. Suddenly and all at once.

But when his eyes didn't leave her back, when she could feel his concern for her and his unyielding love and unconditional understanding, she could feel herself wavering, deep down wanting nothing more than to crawl back into his arms and tell him exactly what was going on in her head. To kiss him senseless, despite her headache–which was increasingly getting worse–and to make love like there's no tomorrow and they're the only people on this Earth and like a rapid fire explosion couldn't touch them as long as they were together, as one.

But she refused to allow herself to do that, to allow herself that reprieve, almost as if she didn't deserve it, didn't deserve to be happy when all she could feel inside was appalling and horrified and selfish and liable.

Almost as a distraction, acting entirely on autopilot, she grabbed her phone off her nightstand and yanked it off the charger.

She hurriedly fumbled to type into her search bar, _Green Acres Park Avenue_.

Instantly, the World Wide Web met her with several million results.

_Green Acres Theme._

_Green Acres Lyrics._

_Green Acres! - Review of 1049 Park Avenue, New York City, NY - Trip Advisor._

_Green Acres is about Oliver Wendell Douglas (Eddie Albert), an erudite New York City attorney, acting on his dream to be a farmer, and Lisa Douglas (Eva Gabor), his glamorous Hungarian wife, who is dragged unwillingly from an upscale Manhattan penthouse apartment and the city life she adores to a ramshackle farm._

The last entry, the one speaking on the premise of the show, clarified all of the brunette's questions and dug the pit even deeper in her stomach.

It didn't take much to put two and two together on the street that day, it didn't take a genius to figure out him referring to himself Green Acres and her Park Avenue together probably meant he was calling her a snob. He was taking a swipe at her. He, for a split second in time, took on the opinion shared with everyone else in town.

It shouldn't have been such a big deal. It shouldn't have dug so deep inside her. It shouldn't have made her chest ache as badly as her head and her throat throb, the way it always did when she suppressed tears, like she had to physically swallow them down.

But it did.

The second the first sob fell out of her mouth, Toby was already halfway across the room, done with asking permission to console her.

Both his arms wrapped around her and instinct took over as she flung herself entirely into his embrace, molding her body around his.

He pressed his lips to the side of her neck, his face lingering there as another sob fell out of her mouth, her chest heaving violently.

This wasn't about the joke anymore, Spencer knew. It couldn't be. A stupid, petty inside joke couldn't wrack her to the core this way.

No, this was about everything surrounding that joke. About everything she'd done that led to that moment, standing there, with the man she loved and another girl who loved him. About the choices she made out of stubborn pride, that took her down a path that led to isolating Toby, that led to damaging her relationship with Hanna forever, that led to completely annihilating her once only male friendship. About the days that led up to the massacre.

About how if she'd done just anything differently, she may have never been kidnapped.

And if she'd never been kidnapped, she wouldn't be on the brink of insanity right now.

And all those people would still be alive and well. Half wouldn't be deceased, half wouldn't be assumed dead.

Toby was still holding her to him, rocking her back and forth as if his life depended on it. His fingers sifted through her messy curls absentmindedly, as he whispered in her ear, "It's okay, baby. It's okay."

But none of it was okay. Everything that had unraveled in their lives, every awful sensation they were experiencing, came directly back to her.

She may not have killed all those people but she was responsible for it. She could have stopped it. She could have changed it.

She could have saved them.

She could have saved that boy, lying on the ground, bleeding out in front of her. The nameless stranger that she was too afraid to acknowledge, too afraid that someone might know him if she told anyone besides Toby. Too afraid that knowing who he was might force her to come to terms with the fact that he'll never grow up into he was meant to be. He'll never get another chance to fulfill his dreams or right his mistakes or give his loved ones two more minutes.

All the things she still had, that she was still selfishly taking for granted.

She could have saved Eddie Lamb. The male nurse, that had been her only confident when she was lost to everything and everyone. Including the boy now cuddling her like no tomorrow.

Eddie had been one of the only people who consistently looked out for her mental wellbeing. Who cared to always ask how she was doing. Who cared to look her over and make sure she wasn't on her way back to the funny farm.

He had maintained being the sole male in power who refused to make a romantic advance, who refused to see her as less than a person who needed help, instead of a girl who's barely legal body was warm and soft and inviting and more than anything, as everyone had made clear as day in the past, _easy_.

_"All the pain and disappointment and loss, because you were stubborn."_

Mona had spoken the words, almost six years ago, not even realizing how true they'd one day be.

* * *

"Baby," Toby whispered into her hair after twenty minutes, when she still had made no move to let go of him, to explain what was so wrong with her _now_ , to even wipe her face.

Pulling back a little, she felt her mouth contort into a soft, barely there smile as her boyfriend wiped underneath one of her eyes gently with his thumb.

She swallowed hard, rubbing her nose, with uncharacteristic haste.

When she still refused to meet his eyes, the cop spoke again, his voice still as gentle as ever, though his patience was starting to dissipate. "Spence, talk to me," he implored. "What's going on?"

She shook her head, at loss at how exactly to explain this. That one memory of _him_ and his almost fiancé, triggered a mounting of self-hatred? That she suddenly realized the repercussions of dating his best friend? That she was a mess and felt like she was falling apart at the seams, and part of her, a tiny part that she pretended didn't exist, was screaming out in her head that she was losing it entirely. She wasn't sure how long she could keep going, how much longer she could last before she gave up or completely snapped or blacked out all over again.

She tried to remind herself that she was drugged the night of the massacre. She knew that now. She didn't just black out. Her memory didn't disappear and it wasn't playing hide and seek in her brain.

It was stolen from her, in one of the most violent ways imaginable, and now it was playing peek-a-boo whenever she, even for a split second, thought she could be alright.

"Spence, you can tell me anything," Toby whispered, alerting her out of her own thoughts. "If there's something new that came back and somehow I missed it, tell me. Tell me and I'll do anything you need, anything it takes-"

"Toby," she cut off, shaking her head. With everything inside of her, she wanted to reassure him that nothing was truly wrong.

He thought something traumatic and harrowing had come back. He was in his own personal hell, assuming the very worst, powerlessly watching the person he loved most fall to pieces one more time.

Wasn't he sick of this? Wasn't he done yet? How could he sit there and still love her with every atom of his body, without being utterly exhausted from all the drama she attracted? How could he not be seething with resentment for upturning his entire life, once again?

Did she ever even ask him how he felt? He wasn't a robot and he wasn't made to love her. He was a person, who deserved better than a half crazed girl, barely clinging to the sideline of sanity.

He deserved Yvonne, who was kind and sweet and pleasant and brilliant and had a family who loved and adored him, as if he was their own. Who didn't bring him down, who could be the loving, devoted girlfriend he needed. Who wasn't jaded or moody or nearly insane.

The brunette took several deep breaths, the thought of the dark skinned, raving beauty, almost forcing her stomach to upchuck all over the bed.

Yvonne always put a bad taste in her mouth now, and she didn't like to acknowledge it, even to herself. How could she be so jealous that she couldn't even bear the thought of another girl her boyfriend loved without feeling physically ill?

What was wrong with her?

Before she had the opportunity to say anything else, her cell saved her, ringing at the most opportune time.

Toby sighed before reaching for it, glancing at the caller ID. "It's your mom," he stated, clearly discontented with the abrupt ending to their conversation.

Taking the phone, caught completely off-guard by the call, she answered in an unsure tone. "Hello?"

"Honey," Veronica breathed, sounding like she wasn't sure if Spencer was alright before hearing her voice.

"Mom?" Spencer narrowed her eyes in confusion, peering at Toby who was as mystified as her. "What's wrong?"

There was silence on the other end and the brunette felt her stomach do a flip, anticipation churning inside her violently.

"Spencer, I heard about what happened. Both at that apartment and in town," Veronica finally stated, her voice now collected and level, though her daughter could feel something brewing underneath.

The twenty-three-year old bit her lip, unsure how to answer the elder woman. "Yes?" She finally offered, attempting to hold back the feeling of defiance building up inside her.

"That was one of the most irresponsible things you could have done," the woman scolded, sounding downright livid now. "What the hell were you thinking? The doctor told you to avoid big crowds and what did you do? Go seek them out-"

Spencer couldn't take it. Not now, not today. Not _any_ day as of late. She couldn't handle being scolded and berated, for simply attempting to live. She went out into public _twice_. Only two attempts to do anything closely resembling a normal event and both had blown up miserably. Both had caused havoc and something deep inside of her shouted, through all the overwhelming emotions, through both the old and new scars, the pain and the anger and the resentment, something deep inside of her cried out that this wasn't fair.

She didn't deserve to be admonished because she chose to not hide out in a hotel room like a recluse.

She didn't deserve to be kicked out of society, for things she couldn't control. For PTSD she couldn't understand and that she didn't ask for.

And she didn't deserve to have to listen to this phone call, she decided.

Maybe it was cruel. Maybe it was downright selfish and compassionless. But she felt no regrets as she tapped the _End_ _Call_ button on her phone, cutting her mother off mid-sentence.

Witnessing the entire thing and sitting just close enough that he heard majority of it, Toby sighed deeply and reached to pull her closer.

"Are you still mad at me?" He asked as he wrapped his arms around her thin body, swaying her slightly.

Her earlier distress fled to the forefront of her brain at once. Swallowing hard, she murmured erratically, "I was never mad at you."

"Yes, you were," he corrected but his voice remained gentle. "I know when you're mad at me, Spence."

It was her turn to sigh now, willing herself not to get emotional. "It's stupid," she whispered as she pulled back.

"Nothing that upsets you could be stupid. To me, at least," he insisted but he could tell just by her eyes she wished he'd drop it.

"I know." She nodded, her eyes dropping to the bed underneath them.

There was a long silence that dragged on, straddling the line between awkward and uncomfortable and just downright unnatural.

Before either of them worked up the courage to break it, Toby's phone went off obnoxiously, screaming in contrast with the noiseless room.

Standing up clumsily, the cop narrowed his eyes as he took in name across his screen, just as Spencer had a few minutes prior. "Hello, Mrs. Hastings," he greeted, turning back around to face the brunette.

The second he said her mother's name, she was climbing to the edge of the bed, straining her ears to catch any of the conversation.

When she couldn't hear a thing, from the less than two feet distance between her and her boyfriend, Spencer's suspicions were peaked.

Since when couldn't she hear a phone that was barely two feet away?

Sensing her frustrations, Toby glanced at her and instantly obligated when she mouth 'speakerphone'.

". . .got to be rational about this, Toby. She isn't getting better. She's getting worse," her mother was saying and Spencer had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

It went deeper than just irritation at the fact that her mom believed so adamantly that she still belonged in the hospital. It was the fact that her mom heard everything secondhand and didn't even ask Spencer what had happened, from her own point of view.

The brunette had little doubts that it was her friends at the country club, possibly the same people who had actually been at Fiona's to witness her meltdown, that had filled Veronica in.

But how could her mother actually take their word at face value and not even ask Spencer _why_ she went there? Why she was so tirelessly trying to suction her life back together? Didn't her mom care that she was searching for some semblance of normal? Or did the woman only care if Spencer made a public spectacle of herself?

Maybe she was being too harsh. Maybe she was on edge, for a million and twenty four different reasons. But whatever the motive, she felt like she was about to explode when Veronica kept talking.

"You need to get her to a therapist," the senator said. "A good one, that comes highly recommended." Toby glanced at Spencer, searching her face for her reaction. "Search for one in the area-"

"Mom," Spencer cut in. "I'm not going to a damn shrink."

"Toby, I called _you_ ," the woman reprimanded, her tone nearly one of betrayal, clearly taken aback to hear her daughter's voice.

"And you really thought you could have a private conversation with him, without my knowing? You overestimated the size of motel rooms," the brunette quipped, her voice without humor.

"Spencer-"

But she didn't give her mother a chance to finish. "You really thought you could go over my head? Tell my boyfriend to send me to a therapist, as if that'll solve all my problems? Is this your next step, after trying to keep me locked up in a hospital?" When her question, which was rhetorical, to be fair, was met with nothing but utter silence, she exchanged a confused glance with Toby. "Mom?"

"I think she hung up," the cop offered after another beat of silence.

"That's never good," she mumbled, too insulted to worry why the usually overly confrontational senator would end the call.

Toby's clear blue eyes watched her as she rolled onto her stomach again, burying her face inside one of the motel provided pillows.

Neither of them really knew where they stood at the moment. They hadn't had a fight—that almost would have been easier—but something went wrong and they still had yet to solve it.

Spencer sighed into the thin cushion, realizing none of her behavior had been fair to him and wishing more than anything she could shut off her brain for one day. Not receive any more flashbacks, not have self-deprecating thoughts that cause rifts between her and the man she loves most in this world, not have to deal with anything unpleasant. For once in her life she wanted to be happy and _stay_ happy.

She didn't want to bring Toby down with her. She didn't want to hurt him or cause him this kind of duress any longer. She just wanted this to all be over and done with.

_"I've had monsters under my bed for so long, that now that they're not there, I feel like I have to create them."_

What she'd said to Alison still rang true and she wished more than anything she could change for Toby's sake, if for nothing else. She _couldn't_ handle losing him again and she couldn't stand the hurt she was causing him.

She was so unfocused that she didn't even notice Toby had joined her on the bed until his hand began massaging the back of her head.

Groaning loudly, she peered up at him. "You should turn off your phone so my mom can't call back."

He gave her a look. "Spencer."

"If she can go days without checking in and then only bother after listening to a bunch of crap gossip about me, I don't think we're obligated to take her calls. Especially when she's acting like I'm insane and you need to get me under control."

"She's just trying to help," he murmured, sympathy for her mom leaking through. His hand found its way up her shirt and began massaging her bare back soothingly. "I know she sucks at showing it sometimes but she is trying her best-"

"Don't defend her," Spencer cut off, her voice not at all harsh. "Please, Tobes. Don't defend her right now."

"Okay," he said amicably, appreciating her softer tone after spending hours with her on edge. He leaned down to kiss her lower back before resuming the rubbing. "I love you. More than anything," he uttered after a moment. "You know that right?"

She chuckled indistinctly, thinking how ironic it was he was saying this even with no knowledge of why she was upset all afternoon. "I know," she whispered a moment later, because she did know. She knew that he must love her, a lot more than she'd ever truly been able to reconcile, in order to literally risk his life by running into that building, just to save her.

Just as it seemed he was about to say more, a knock interrupted them, much like the phone calls had too.

"Who is bothering us now?" Spencer complained through gritted teeth, as Toby peered out the peep hole.

A strange, almost comical, look cross his face before he turned back to look at her. "Your mother."

Before she could even process his words, there was another, more impatient knock, and acting completely on instinct, Spencer flung herself out of bed and tossed the door open.

"Mother," she greeted, looking at her, almost as if she were measuring her up for size.

Apparently the senator wasn't in the mood for greetings. "What is going on with you?" Veronica admonished as she moved her way into the room, as if she were entitled to their space.

"Excuse me?" Spencer shot back as Toby, in very much contrast with the two alpha females, shut the door quietly. "What's wrong with me? You haven't checked in on me once since I've been released and suddenly you think you have the right to scold me, like I'm six, for things I couldn't control?"

Guilt flashed across the senator's face for a split second before her eyes grew hard. "I had a lot of work to catch up on, Spencer. You, of all people, should understand that. You're in politics too. And your dad said he told you to call me."

"Dad told Toby that, not me, and last I checked, passing messages around secondhand doesn't count as caring."

"Of course I _care_ , Spencer," the elder woman snapped, emphasizing the word like her daughter had become an imbecile overnight. "That's not the point-"

"What is your point here, then? To lecture me for having attacks in public? Is-"

"No," Veronica cut off sharply, and this time, her daughter waited for her to finish. "I'm here because clearly I'm not getting through to you over the phone and you need to see someone. Someone who can help you figure out this entire thing. Get the attacks under control. Help you get on with a normal, productive life."

There was a stretch of silence, where both Toby and her mother waited for her to say something, have some sort of reaction, relent or refute the suggestion but either way, do something.

Neither of them expected her to roll her eyes to the back of her head and mumble under her breath, "'get under control'", before breezing past both of them and heading towards the sink.

"Spence," Toby called as his eyes followed her movements. "What are you doing?"

"You were right, I need some fucking pills right now."

The senator's eyes widened with alarm and the cop couldn't amend her statement fast enough. "She's talking about over the counter painkillers for her headaches."

"She's having headaches?" Veronica repeated, somewhat baffled.

"She had them in the hospital too," Toby reminded, his voice reminiscent of Spencer's when she was talking down to someone. And then it become obvious she was starting to rub off on him when he couldn't resist adding, "Don't you remember?"

"Of course I remember, Toby," the elder woman quickly declared, shutting her eyes. "I just didn't know they were still occurring." Turning to look at the brunette, her movements slower now, Veronica stated, "This is even more of a reason you need to see someone."

Spencer took a deep breath before speaking. "Why?" She asked simply. "Because it would really do me any good or because you don't want the neighbors to talk about me anymore?"

"That is not the reason," her mother insisted sharply.

"Well I don't believe you really think it's going to improve my mental health or else you would have said it when I was in the hospital!" Spencer exclaimed, literally throwing her hands up. She may not have always had the best relationship with either of her parents but the one thing that had always been-and evidently still was-true, was the fact that she knew when they were lying. She knew when something wasn't right or when they had an ulterior motive behind their eyes. She knew that if her mom thought seeing a therapist was best for her, she would have thought of it a long time ago. "Mom, what aren't you telling me?"

"Fine," Veronica relented, her face still callous. "To put it blankly? If the cops come at you with any sort of allegations, it's not going to help your case that you have been a public spectacle and have reached out for zero help from any psychologist."

She knew it, she told herself. She knew that her mom wasn't pushing her to get help out of the kindness of her heart or out of motherly concern but for legal reasons. She knew it from the very moment the words left her mother's mouth.

But somehow it still stung and Spencer pretended to scratch at one of the cuts surrounding her eyes in order to hide the moisture, threatening to leak out.

Toby, though, recognized the cover up and moved right by her mother without a second thought. "Spence," he murmured, too quiet for Veronica to hear.

"I'm fine," she assured, her tone too quiet and too sugary to even begin to convince him.

Her mom didn't quite realize the depth of her daughter's emotions-then again, Toby's the only person who had ever realized Spencer's sensitivity-but still, her voice became considerably milder. "Honey, I told you once that most verdicts are decided in living rooms. I'm just thinking strategically. Take a preemptive strike. Avoid public places for a little while and see a therapist, and eventually we'll be able to put all this behind us."

"Us?" Spencer picked, her volume rising. "What do you mean, us?"

The senator looked taken aback by the inquiry. "I mean, all of us. You, me, Toby, your father and sister."

Somehow her frustration outweighed her self-preservation and she didn't try hiding any longer the crack in her voice or the wetness of her eyes. " _We_ aren't going through this, mom. I am. You were not kidnapped and you have not been forced to live through flashes of that night. You're sanity isn't in question and last I checked, the cops aren't accusing you of anything, so don't act like we're all in this together, because we're not."

"Spencer-"

"I'm not going to see an effing therapist. Especially not to prove anything to the cops. So if that's all you came here for, the door is right there."

It was clear by the look on her face that Veronica wasn't used to being vetoed. For as long as Spencer could remember, what her mother said is what they did. Even with her lack of presence, she still controlled and dictated majority of things in both her daughters' lives.

Looking beyond her daughter, she eyed the cop standing behind her, somewhat warily. "You know, Doctor Barnes said it was your job to determine what was right for Spencer. Has the concept of therapy never crossed your mind, Toby?"

To both women's surprise, his response came out quick and even. "Not like this. I've never considered pressuring her into seeing someone to make her look better to a bunch of strangers. And I've never considered forcing her to do it unwillingly."

"Even if it were what's best for her?" Veronica pressed, her voice harder now.

"Do you know what's best for her?" Toby responded, his voice still just as gentle as before. It almost made it more difficult for the elder woman to swallow. Having a twenty-four-year old disagree with her and still keep his cool. "Honestly? Do you know what's best for Spencer or what's best for her case? Because I can promise you, forcing her to do something she adamantly doesn't want to do is the last thing that'll help her."

Oddly enough, as much as it baffled Veronica to hear him stand his ground, his words baffled Spencer more. How did he understand her better than her own mother? Neither Aria or Hanna could relate to this, as it was a no brainer that both Ashley and Ella understood them better than their respective guys. And that was fine. In fact, that was considered normal.

 _Males just don't get us_ , girls said all the time. _No one understands me like my mom._

Somehow with Spencer, it was the exact opposite. And, for some reason, she felt lucky. There had been countless times in the past that she'd wished her mother was different. Countless times that she'd wanted to have the same level of connection and bond her friends all shared with their moms. Countless times she'd been overcome with jealousy when witnessing the relationship between her mother and Melissa.

How did Toby make up for everything she'd ever been deprived of, tenfold? How did he always manage to make everything feel alright, even just for a minute, even when she was so terrible to him? Even when she iced him out and punished him for things he didn't mean, for things he shouldn't be held responsible for?

How could someone love her so much when she felt like nothing short of an atomic bomb nearly every minute of the day?

"No one can guide us through this thing except Spencer," Toby was saying. "She is the one who this happened to. We have to trust her judgment. If we don't then she might as well still be locked up in that hospital."

She wanted to smack herself upside the head for snapping at him for defending her mom. He didn't deserve her irritation when all he'd tried to do was make things easier for _her_.

Apparently, Veronica had heard enough. "Alright, fine, Spencer." She shook her head, bordering on appalled. "You're an adult. You do whatever you like. If you say this isn't my mess, then I won't worry about it."

The moment her mom spoke, dread filled Spencer's stomach all over again and she suddenly didn't know how to feel.

How do you feel when your parent says they've thrown their hands up?

How do you feel when you essentially asked them to?

How do you feel when you realize that your own mother cannot figure out how to support you without controlling you?

How do you feel when you realize that the fault lines had been thrown around so many times, you don't even know who is to blame for how you got here?

She'd never been the ideal mother, Spencer reminded herself. Nannies had a large part in her upbringing and the only sort of affection she got was when she either was falling apart at the seams or when she proved herself worthy.

But at the hospital, after their heart to heart moment, she thought it might be different. She thought after everything, things might change. That maybe this tragedy would shift her mother's perspective a little.

It clearly had been in vain and as much as she would adamantly deny it aloud, Spencer couldn't help but realize that what she felt was crushed hope. She'd unconsciously let her guard down and hoped for once that things could change in a positive way.

She wanted to kick herself for allowing even an ounce of optimism to even form inside her.

As if he were a sign, Spencer felt a large hand come into contact with the small of her back, just as the door shut, signaling her mother's exit, and unconsciously she reached for him.

He easily lifted her up, pulling her tighter as her arms and legs both coiled around him. "I'm so sorry," she whispered as she buried her face into his neck.

"Spencer," he breathed, a slightly confused edge finding its way into his voice. "For what?"

"For taking you for granted. For not treating you the way you deserve." She allowed a couple of tears, more out of stress than anything else, to make their ways down her face and into the shoulder of his shirt.

"Oh, Spence," he chuckled, much to her surprise. His hand began rubbing from the middle of her back down to her thighs. "You don't get to apologize for anything right now. Not with the kind of stress you're under. I can't even imagine what this is like for you. I can't believe what you're going through and yet, you're still so strong. I am in complete awe of you, all day, every day. Okay, don't think that you need to ever apologize for having feelings."

It was her turn to laugh now. "I love you," she murmured, pulling back to look at his face. "You know that, right? You make me the luckiest girl alive."

And with her words, a light filled his eyes that led her to believe he knew what she meant. That he knew what it meant to feel that kind of love that changed even the bleakest circumstances for the better. That he loved her, just as hopelessly and selflessly and tragically as she loved him. That she was just as much as a part of him as he was her.

That he would love her no matter what else happened. No matter what the future held. No matter what else came to light.

No matter what she did.


End file.
